


Fragments of Design

by teacupsandtime



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dogs, Domestic, Eat The Rude, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a big ol' softie, Jealous Will Graham, Jealousy, M/M, Mentioned Mischa Lecter, Murder Husbands, One Shot Collection, Original Character(s), Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Romance, Vignette, Wendigo, Will Graham Loves Dogs, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, loudly implied cannibalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupsandtime/pseuds/teacupsandtime
Summary: A collection of post season 3 Hannigram one shots.1.) Trouble in Paradise.2.) New nightmares.3.)  Jack finds them.4.) Settling into a new life.5.) Dealing with Molly.6.) Jealousy.7.) A rainy evening at home.8.) Hannibal and Will find an injured dog.9.) Will learns a new language. Hannibal helps.10.) Hannibal made a promise to Alana. Will doesn't want him to keep it.11.) Will reflects on how their intimate relationship progressed.12.) A stranger is rude. Hannibal reacts accordingly.13.) They adopt their dogs.14.) Someone breaks into their house.15 & 16.) Hannibal has an enthusiastic admirer. (epilogue added)17.) Sparring and admissions.18.) Halloween19.) Will is hiding something.20.) Puppies (!)21.) Will learns why Hannibal has nightmares.





	1. Bad Romance

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing vignettes and one shots so this will be a collection of exactly that: little slices of Will and Hannibal's relationship. ~~There are plans for post-Fall, pre-Fall, missing scenes, cannon divergence, angst, and fluff.~~
> 
> There _were_ plans, indeed. However, this is now going to strictly be a collection of a post season 3 Hannibal and Will and the fluffy, sometimes murderous world I've built for them. 
> 
> I will update the story tags accordingly. 
> 
> I have no idea how many there will be or how often this will be updated but as long as I have ideas, they'll be here.

 

He could hear the heavy, deliberate fall of footsteps before he closed the door behind him; a warning, a chance to run or - at the very least - prepare himself. But Will Graham made no move to do either and instead boldly locked the deadbolt behind him as Hannibal appeared from the hallway.

His eyes looked crimson, his face like stone, save for a tight furl on his upper lip that twitched as he came to stop in front of him. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, the fine cloth around the buttonholes uncharacteristically wrinkled. 

“Where did you go, Will?”

His voice was low and calm but brimming with a fury that was bubbling underneath.

“Out,” Will said simply. “Like I said I was.”

Hannibal’s upper lip twitched again.

“As I specifically asked you not to,” he said. “As I forbade you.”

The air around them vibrated as Will’s disbelieving laughter broke though it.

“As you _forbade_ me?” he repeated incredulously.

Though his words were bold and sure, Will found himself unable to move past Hannibal who was barring his way into the rest of the house. They’d been on the run together for nearly two years, long since healed from the physical wounds they’d endured the night that Will had taken them over the cliff, but still struggling with the internal workings of their relationship.

Through an initial mutual desire and a following strategic necessity they’d barely spent a moment apart from one another since they’d crawled out of the Atlantic.

As they’d kept moving from city to city, country to country, the crumbling walls of any final barriers between them had disintegrated at their feet. What had started as sleepy, casual embraces had transgressed into waking touches, caresses, kisses, and the pushing and pulling of naked flesh.

Though Will had found himself to be more content and satisfied than he had ever been before, he slowly found himself missing his home in Wolf Trap - missing quiet nights alone with the dogs. Hannibal, on the other hand, had found himself growing more and more accustomed to having Will constantly at his side; and more and more reluctant to be apart from him.

Now, somewhere in Romania, in a city Will had given up on trying to pronounce, Hannibal had become convinced that they’d been recognized and Will had felt the walls closing in around him. As the days passed - as Hannibal made arrangements for them to move yet again - Will felt himself going crazy.

The moment Hannibal had left his side, he’d gone out the door and walked in the cool night air until he could feel the world opening up to him again. And now as he faced the wrath of the man in front of him, Will found himself bolstered by the clarity.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled. “I went for a fucking walk, Hannibal. I went for a fucking _walk_.”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Hannibal said through clenched teeth. “As I am also sure that you both heard and processed my request for you not to leave the house until I could arrange for us to be on our way.”

“Oh, it’s back to being a request now?” Will said. “Not a fucking command.”

Hannibal averted his gaze for moment, exhaling, before he came back to focus on him. Will knew that Hannibal hated when he used language like that - he found it “uncivilized”. And Hannibal knew in that moment that Will absolutely was doing it on purpose. 

“Will,” Hannibal said, forcing his voice to be smoother. “Understand that that request was not selfish. There is a real possibility that we’ve been recognized - ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will interrupted. “I know, just spare me. Okay? Can you do that doctor Lecter? Can you just fucking give it a rest for a second?”

Hannibal’s mouth tightened again and his fingers came to dance on the sides of his thighs.

“Look, I understand,” Will relented. “And I’m sorry, but I had to get out of here for a second. I needed to clear my head. It’s not like I went screaming naked through the streets.”

“That isn’t the point, Will,” Hannibal said. “If that man knew who we were then he undoubtedly followed us and has potentially made his way to this area. Perhaps he has already contacted the FBI. It is tremendously irresponsible of you to risk our freedom - yours and mine - for an evening stroll.”

Exasperated, Will brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes before violently throwing his arms back down. 

“Hannibal, I’m not a fucking idiot,” he said, his voice boarding on yelling. “Have you magically fucking forgotten that I worked for the goddamn FBI? That I’ve spent time in prison? Surely you remember that little stint in my timeline.”

Will paused to cock his eyebrow.

“Do you think that’s a life I’m eager to return to?” he continued. “I know what I’m doing. I just needed to get out of this house.”

“Will-”

“Don’t! Just stop!” Will said, fully yelling now. “I don’t want to hear anymore! I did it, it’s over, it happened! I’m not your fucking prisoner.”

Even with his clearheaded confidence, Will found himself stepping backwards as Hannibal approached him now, stopping when his back hit the door. Hannibal’s face was inches from his own and when he spoke, it was deep and deadly serious. 

“Do not insult me, Will.”

Hannibal’s chest was heaving and Will could smell the heat coming off his body.

“Get away from me,” he said, his voice pushed back down to a near whisper. “Hannibal, get away from me.”

But he could tell from the look in his eyes that Hannibal wasn’t going anywhere. He was furious and, worse, disparaged. 

Will looked into his eyes and saw nothing of the man he’d grown accustomed to waking up next to; this was the same obsidian demon that had haunted him for years. Placing a hard palm flat against Hannibal’s chest, Will pushed at him and found him to be unmovable. 

Again, he pushed - harder - and faced the same result. 

With two hands flat against him now Will shoved with everything he had in him, with all the slight buildup he could muster with the door at his back, and found Hannibal’s bare feet move slightly as the older man’s hands wrapped around his wrists painfully.

“Hannibal, get the fuck off of me!”

When no release came, Will drove his shoulder down into Hannibal’s chest and bent his leg back until he felt the sole of his shoe hit the door. With everything he had in him he pushed off and hurled his weight into Hannibal which sent them both crashing to the hard wood of the floor. 

It would have made Will laugh in triumph if it hadn’t knocked the wind out of him. 

Hannibal’s arms were tight around him as his back hit the floor, keeping Will locked against him. Will managed to maneuver his right arm into a bend and drove his elbow down into Hannibal’s ribs as hard as he could, struggling to find purchase with his lower body and eventually settling a knee in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling his upper body up and away from him. 

It wasn’t but a moment before Hannibal’s hands were back on him, grabbing hard at his arms as his legs snaked up and around Will’s body to throw him off. 

Will had youth on his side but it was negated when faced with Hannibal’s experience and additional weight. 

He was on his back before he could register that he was losing the dominant position. Hannibal had the full weight of his body pushed into the top of Will’s thighs, his wrists pinned on either side of his head.

The panting of Will’s breath bounced off the walls; above him, Hannibal’s face was flushed but he showed no other signs of fatigue or struggle. 

For a brief moment, Will considering spitting in his face.

“Do you feel like a prisoner, Will?” Hannibal asked, pushing his weight harder into him.

Under him, Will rocked his hips up in an attempt to dislodge him. The vice grip around his wrists tightened again and he could feel his skin throbbing through the shackles of Hannibal’s fingers. 

“Maybe this isn’t the best time to ask me that considering I can’t fucking move.”

Without warning one of his wrists was released as Hannibal’s newly freed hand came to wrap around his throat. The hold there wasn’t as punishing as the one on his wrist had been, but it was tight enough that Will’s hand shot up and worked briefly to pull at his fingers before giving up and grabbing at Hannibal’s forearm, his thumb pressing against the horizontal scar there. 

“Enough of that,” Hannibal said, the malice easing from his voice.

Will’s Adam’s Apple bobbed under Hannibal’s grip as he felt the fight go out of him; the fire that had enveloped his entire body only moments before was being replaced by a rolling storm that extinguished the flames but not without bringing its own chaos.

“Ask me nicely.”

The crimson that had punctuated Hannibal’s eyes was gone, replaced by a familiar warm brown. The grip on Will’s throat and wrist loosened but did not entirely leave as Hannibal pushed himself down into him again, coming to rest their foreheads together.

“Please, Will."

As their mouths came together with a force that bordered on the violence of before, Will found a laughter building in his chest; there were probably more healthy ways to deal with frustration and anger but then again, their relationship wasn’t exactly the prototype of tradition.

Hannibal’s hand slid from his throat to the side of his face as his other fell away from Will's wrist, Will’s newly freed hand coming to grab at the hair behind Hannibal’s neck. Around them the air crackled with thunder and smelled of impending rain. The floor was hard and uncomfortable against Will’s back, made more unforgiving by Hannibal’s weight, but even as he grimaced he wrapped his arms tighter to pull him down closer, harder. 

Hannibal’s mouth was hot against his throat, teeth digging in and lips sucking at the purpling flesh. As Will’s hands moved to the belt at Hannibal’s waist he felt the thick drops of rain hit his forehead and hands, soaking every part of him that wasn’t shielded by Hannibal’s body.


	2. In the Forest of Bone

The air around him was thick, dense with an uncharacteristic humidity that bore down on his shoulders with an oppressive weight. He tried to move faster - he could hear the inhuman steps behind him - but the harder he worked his legs the more his muscles burned and refused to quicken.

The sweat dripping from his hairline stung his eyes and blurred his vision; the sound of his own ragged breathing was thundering between his ears.

He wanted to turn - wanted to see how close it was - but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And, ultimately, he knew it didn’t matter. It would catch him eventually. 

His boots sank into the wet leaves as the trees began to close in around him, their branches reaching out, twisting into the bone of naked antlers. Before his eyes they crowded his path and blocked the way until there was nowhere left to run.

He turned, the sharp points of a dozen antlers digging into the wet flesh of his back, as the wendigo pushed against him. The towering ebony antlers rushed past his ears on either side of his head, scraping his cheeks and pushing him deeper into the bone at his back. 

He heard the _click clack_ of bone on bone as black clashed with white on either side of his head.

Pushing all the air from his lungs, he inhaled and tried to scream but a clawed hand grabbed at his throat. The antlers at his back snaked around his wrists like iron vines and pulled his body back into an arch. His lungs burned as he tried to breathe.

The dead, black eyes of the wendigo bore into him as he tried again to scream.

_Will._

A question. 

There was a pressure on his shoulder.

“Will?”

Rushing awake with a violent lurch of his body, Will slapped and pushed at the hands reaching for him before throwing a blind punch, connecting with skin - human skin - as he scrambled to flee. His knees hit the hard wood of the floor as he pushed his back into the nearest wall, blinking feverishly in an attempt to focus. 

Closing his eyes tightly he counted to five and then opened them again.

Hannibal was sitting up in bed, holding the side of his jaw where Will’s fist had connected. His hair was mussed from sleep, his lids lowered. Will pulled his knees up and to his chest, resting his forehead there. 

He felt a wave of embarrassment rush over him.

Coming to his feet, he quickly walked toward the bed and grabbed his damp pillow.

He wanted to look at the irritated flesh of Hannibal’s cheek but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he walked out of the room.

His bare feet stuck to the wood of the floor as he made his way to the living room of the small home they shared, tossing his pillow down on the wide, leather couch. He was exhausted but brimming with adrenaline; the embarrassment he’d felt before was dissolving into anger. Unable to lay down, he paced the room, wrapping his arms up and around himself to fend off the chill the cooling sweat on his skin was bringing. 

A small reading lamp on a nearby table clicked on and Will turned to find Hannibal standing before him. Were it not for the long pajama pants, bare chest and feet, Will would never have known that he’d just been asleep.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Yes, I know,” Hannibal replied. “It’s quite alright.”

Will looked at his reddened knuckles, realizing for the first time that they were sore.

“I punched you in the face,” he said. 

“Yes, you did. You’ve done worse.”

And he had. In the time that had followed their plunge into the Atlantic, Will had felt himself growing more comfortable with this new identity - with this new, honest life of his. But in the last couple of months, he’d found the vivid nightmares of his past returning.

But unlike the varying scenarios he was used to, this one was always the same: the tar-black, antlered cannibalistic monster that forced him into a thicket of antler bone before it eventually caught him. Most of the time, Will managed to wake before it plunged its clawed hand into his chest and ripped his still beating heart from him.

When he did not wake on his own, when Hannibal had to pull him back, the older man was frequently rewarded with shoves, slaps, scratches, and screams. Though Hannibal had been patient, Will knew he was concerned.

“Are you afraid of me, Will?”

“No,” came the immediate response. “I’ve never been afraid of you.”

Will let his arms drop from around him. Hannibal’s mouth was upturned in the slightest of grins.

“Does that bother you?”

His grin grew, his eyes softened as Hannibal’s mind flashed through memories.

“No.”

“Right, dumb question,” Will said as he finally sat on the smooth leather of the couch. He stared at Hannibal’s bare feet.

“It’s _me_ ,” he said. “I’m still afraid of me.”

“What has happened to you, Will, is dramatic, life changing in every sense,” he said, not moving. “The life you live now is nothing but a shadow of the life you lived years ago in Virginia - nothing that you likely ever envisioned to be possible. There have been gargantuan changes and adjustments that would not be simple for anyone to work through.”

Will thought about his dogs; he wondered if Molly had kept them. He thought about the first time he’d kissed Hannibal. He thought about the first man he’d killed alone, with his hands, in a situation that never could have been considered self-defense. He thought about how warm the flesh of that man’s neck had been under his fingers.

“It will take time, more than you’d likely prefer, but it will stop.”

Will pushed back into the couch and felt his body relax a little. He rubbed his sore knuckles again.

“Well until then maybe I should just sleep out here.”

“Nonsense,” Hannibal said as he came towards him and held out his hand.

With a tired sigh Will reached up and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. As he stood in front of Hannibal, he reached and ran the back of his sore knuckles against his cheek. The skin gave off a gentle heat.

“I _am_ sorry.”

Hannibal pulled his hand away and carefully ran his thumb over his knuckles. He didn’t say anything else. He turned and pulled Will by his hand, stopping to turn the light back off as they walked back to the bedroom. Separating, they climbed back under the bedding. As he went to lay his head back down, Will sat back up, realizing he’d left his pillow on the couch.

Before he could get out of bed again, Hannibal’s arms were around him and pulling him down towards his chest. Will’s cheek came to rest there, his ear pressed into the _thump_ of Hannibal’s heart. 


	3. A Peek Behind the Veil

It was dark.

He was tired. 

This was a random, small village outside of Düsseldorf.

It had been five years since he’d last seen him.

There had been no word, no rumors - not a whisper.

There were a dozen different reasonings rushing through Jack Crawford’s head, working hard to convince him that the man he saw sat in a plush chair in the corner of this small pub wasn’t Hannibal Lecter. He was leaned back - relaxed - his legs crossed in front of him with a small paperback book open in his right hand, his left resting against his chin. There were reading glasses perched on his nose and his hair was grayer and longer than the Hannibal Lecter of Jack’s memory.

But it _was him._

Instinctively, his fingers reached down to his hip but, of course, there was no holster - no gun. Soon after the incident with Hannibal, Will, and Francis Dolarhyde he’d been forced into retirement at the FBI; a mercy all things considered. As a private citizen he’d continued searching for Will for over a year after coming across the body of the Red Dragon at Lecter’s cliffside home.

The lab reports had come back positive with Dolarhyde’s blood as well as Will’s and Hannibal’s. There were bloody handprints and red drips forming a spotted path to the edge of the bluff and then nothing. 

No bodies. 

Jack could still feel his heart sink when he thought of it - of Will going over that precipice and plummeting to his death; a death that never would have happened had he not gone to his classroom one day and asked to borrow his imagination.

And now here, halfway around the world, in a bar in a village with no stop lights sat Hannibal Lecter. There was a familiar tension building in his chest, accented by fear and anger but Jack felt himself unable to move, remaining upright and still just beyond the entrance of the pub. As he felt his lips move, inhaling oxygen into his lungs, he saw Hannibal’s face look up from his book.

His eyes cast down, his head moving up slightly and to the left, in Jack’s direction.

His nostrils slightly flared.

As their eyes met, Hannibal’s face remained like stone though Jack fancied he could see the the rise of his chest deepening ever so slightly.

“Hey.”

Jack followed Hannibal’s gaze as Will Graham materialized in front of him, a glass of red wine in one hand and a short glass of whiskey in the other. Jack felt the air knocked out of him as his shaking legs forced him to take a seat at a small table in the corner. He brought a hand to his mouth as his eyes stung with unshed tears. Craning his neck around the large pillar in the room that barred his body from their view, Jack watched Hannibal reach up and take the wine glass from Will. The thick reflective black band on his left ring finger briefly caught the flames from the fireplace on the far wall. 

He continued to watch as Will sank into the chair opposite Hannibal. His hair was much longer than he’d ever seen it: long enough to be pulled back with an elastic though it was loose and moppy with dark curls. His beard was longer too, though not by much. He couldn’t see him now that he’d taken a seat but he pretended that he could hear him. 

“ _Guten Abend, mein Herr. Was möchten Sie bestellen_?”

Jumping a little, Jack looked up to the young woman at his side.

“ _Ja, ja, bitte_ ,” he said. “ _Ein Whiskey und ein Glas Wasser._ ”

With a small smile she was gone and Jack craned his neck again to look at Hannibal. He was holding the glass of red wine in his left hand, the book still open in his right and though his eyes were staring at the pages he could tell he wasn’t reading.

When the young woman returned with his drinks Jack drank the water first, finding that his hands were shaking, before he downed the whiskey in a single gulp feeling it burn its way down his throat and settle in his belly with a glowing warmth. In his head he counted to 100, then 200, then 300, and by the time he was nearing 1,000 he saw Hannibal turn and say something to Will. He saw Will’s hand place his empty glass on the small table in front of them as they rose to their feet, Hannibal placing his reading glasses in the inner pocket of his jacket.

With a hand pressed gently to his back, Hannibal guided Will around the room, avoiding Jack’s direction as they made their way to the exit. Though every fiber inside him screamed Will’s name, Jack remained quiet and sank deeper into his chair, hiding his face with the small menu on the table. As they reached the door behind him, Jack heard Hannibal feign having absentmindedly left his book behind, telling Will he’d be outside in a moment. 

The door opened, letting a cold breeze in, before it closed again and Hannibal Lecter came to sit across from him at the small table. 

“Hello, Jack.”

“Hello, Hannibal.”

There was a fevered urgency in the air, the knowledge that there was far too much to say and not enough time.

“What brings you here?”

Hannibal's voice was low and even but his body was rigid.

“Not you,” Jack answered.

It was then that Hannibal’s eyes scanned him, settling on the gold band on his left hand.

“Have you remarried, Jack?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have,” he said as his index finger curled out from the grip he had on his empty glass to quickly point at Hannibal’s own hand. “So have you.”

Hannibal tilted his head slightly. 

“I have never been married before.”

Exhaling, Jack’s felt his grip on the glass tighten. 

“What is your wife’s name?”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity the conversation that was unfolding. 

“Allie,” he offered. “Allison.”

“And you are here on a holiday? In this tiny, quiet place?”

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Jack nodded.

“Yup. Just up the way. At _Das Gasthaus_. Just the two of us.”

He leaned forward slightly, releasing his hold on the glass. 

“We’re in room 8. It’s got a real shitty spring lock and chain, no deadbolt. And both of us are usually out cold by 10.”

Hannibal pulled his hands from his lap and clasped them together on the table, amused and surprised at the offering.

“I told you I'm not here for you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal held his gaze.

“I’m not here for Will either,” he continued. “Christ, I never thought I’d see him again.”

Jack swallowed the emotion in his throat and blinked to clear his eyes.

“I’m tired, Hannibal. I’m _old_. I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want to _be_.”

Running his fingers over the rim of his empty glass, Jack leaned in closer.

“I don’t have a lot of regrets in my life,” he whispered. “But my two biggest ones both involve you.”

Jack thought about Miriam, about Will. His eyes were locked on the ring on Hannibal’s finger;their foreheads were so close they could have touched.

“Is he . . . is he alright?” he asked, not bothering to try and force the tears back this time. “Is he happy?”

Hannibal rubbed his thumbs over the edges of his index fingers, keeping his hands clasped.

“He is,” he said.

Jack’s bottom lip trembled as he moved his fingers to push at the tears that had fallen down his cheeks. Hannibal’s face had softened though his body remained stiff. Between them now was a bond, an understanding.

An agreement.

“There is much I would like to say to you, Jack,” Hannibal said. “But he will be wondering where I am.”

Jack inhaled a shaky breath and nodded. 

“You’ve been polite and considerate,” Hannibal continued. “But I must ask you for a final courtesy: I do not think it wise that Will should see you. Would you remain here until we’ve gone?”

Nodding, Jack pushed back away from the table and into the chair. 

“Yeah.” 

Coming to his feet, Hannibal produced the paperback he’d been reading from his jacket.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

“Goodbye, Hannibal.”

Moving to the side, Hannibal moved past him, stopping to consider placing an arm on his shoulder before deciding against it and opening the door. 

“Hey! Where did you go?” Will voice rang out as the cold air from the street blew in. 

Jack laughed softly, covering his mouth to keep a sob from escaping.

“It had already been turned into the management.” 

“Ah, super responsible. Or, they just really wanted to read . . . whatever that was. What did you say it was about?”

Jack listened to Hannibal tell Will the title of his book, listened to their voices and footfalls fade away. There was a fluttering in his heart that he hadn’t been anticipating - a gentle, rapid beating of relief, perhaps even of jubilation. Rubbing his eyes, Jack came to his feet and made his way to the small window on the wall. Though his view was obstructed by trees he could make out the shape of them as they walked leisurely down the uneven, stone road. He watched Will drape his arm over Hannibal’s shoulders as they continued to walk until he could no longer see them; like they were never there and that at any moment Jack would wake up next to Allie in the small room of their hotel.

But he didn’t wake. 

Jack sat back down at his table, motioning for the waitress’s attention and ordered another glass of whiskey. When it arrived, he took a long, slow drink letting his eyes close as it burned its way down.


	4. Sueño

When the dust had settled and wounds had healed and the searching, reaching fingers of the FBI grasped only at air, Hannibal had decided that it was time to purchase a small farmhouse in a rural area outside of El Bolsón, Argentina. It was a 30 minute drive to the nearest phone and the nights were so dark that you couldn’t see the ground at your feet.

It reminded Will of his home in Wolf Trap.

Though Hannibal had not shared with him the cost of the home, judging by its state Will had assumed that it hadn’t put a dent in his finances; the floorboards were old and creaked under foot, there was water damage in the hallway of the second floor, the plumbing in the bathroom kicked and screamed the entire time a faucet was turned on. That was to say nothing of how drastically out of date all the appliances and furnishings were. 

On his first trip down to inspect the damp basement, Will had put his foot through a rotted step. Up the old, narrow stairs to the second floor there were two bedrooms each with a double bed and dressers with uneven drawers. The single bathroom had a discolored, clawfoot tub and a toilet with the tank hanging on on the wall behind it. 

Though Will had initially suspected that Hannibal would be unhappy in such a place, the older man showed no signs of it. Instead, he’d set himself about cleaning the neglected iron, wood, and porcelain all around the house while Will had gone to work on the broken and damaged floorboards, pieces of furniture, and pipes. 

They fell into a silent rhythm.

As the days would come to an end, Hannibal would inevitably find Will in whatever room he’d be working in and ask if he was ready for dinner. Will would answer succinctly in the positive and leave whatever he was doing to wash up, though he was rarely able to wash all the grime from his fingertips without a shower. Meals were simple and efficient, a far cry from the opulence Hannibal had produced in Baltimore, but no less delicious. They would converse in gentle tones about the progress they’d made before cleaning the dishes together and retiring for the evening.

That was the only time when things felt strange. 

Over the last year they had moved from motels to hotels to rental homes. They’d flown across the Atlantic and back again more than once but in all that time one thing never changed: they’d always shared a bed. At first, it had been out of necessity and utter exhaustion but as their bodies healed they seemed to be incapable of moving away. They would fall asleep not touching and wake up tangled, most often with Hannibal’s head on Will’s chest.

But when Hannibal had purchased this home, when they felt the roots growing under their feet,something seemed to change; like they’d gone back to professional obligations following a long sabbatical. They’d climbed the stairs together on that first night, Hannibal had asked if he had a preference for which room he wanted, and that had been it.

That had been one week ago.

And two nights ago, the nightmares had come back. Only this time, they were different than before but always the same. Instead of the wendigo, Will would find himself alone in a vast, black ocean. He’d hear a voice calling his name but never be able to find it, working himself to exhaustion before falling under and waking himself up. 

On this night, after he’d again woken with his lungs burning from an imaginary lack of oxygen, he’d had enough.

There was no clock in his room but he knew it was in the early morning hours. Will sat up and put his bare feet on the floor, deliberating for a moment before he got up and crossed the distance between the door to his room and Hannibal’s. Hannibal’s door was as it had been each night: halfway shut. An indication that he was sleeping but not closed off.

Will lifted his hand to knock and then lowered it again without making any sound. He pushed the door open slowly and then closed it again as he stepped beyond it. The top hinge was in desperate need of oil and he made a mental note to fix that tomorrow. The moonlight coming in from the window cast just enough light in the room so that Will could make out Hannibal’s sleeping form. He was positioned on the right side of the bed just has he had been when they had shared.

Coming to stand on the left side, Will carefully pulled the covers back and laid down.

At his side, Hannibal reared up and raised his hands as if to strike.

“Whoa, I’m sorry, it’s me,” Will said loudly, lurching back up. “It’s me.”

“Will?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal lowered himself back down.

“I apologize, I was dreaming.”

“I’ll go,” Will said, embarrassed as he moved to get out of bed.

“No, it’s all right,” Hannibal said. “Stay.”

Laying back down, Will pulled the covers up to his chest, feeling himself calm at the familiar scent. 

“What were you dreaming about?”

“Nothing,” Hannibal said softly. “Or, more precisely, nothingness.”

Will rolled to his side away from him, pulling his knees slightly up. He could feel the warmth of Hannibal’s body at his back. He waited for a moment, feeling the heat between them and listening to the symphony of insects outside.

This was somehow worse than being back in his own room.

There was a break in the air as Hannibal moved to his side, inching closer with a small shift as a careful hand came to rest on Will’s hip. He froze like that, waiting.

His fingers were warm. 

“Is this all right?” he whispered, his breath encouraging goosebumps all down the length of Will’s arms.

Without answering, Will reached for the hand at his hip and pulled it up and to his chest, enclosing Hannibal’s hand in a fist at the center of his sternum. He felt the muscles in Hannibal’s body relax as he pushed himself flush against Will’s back. There was an unmistakable and deep inhale where Hannibal’s face had come to rest at the crook of his neck.

Their sleep was dreamless.


	5. Consequences

Her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, loose and resting on the tops of her shoulders. Her bangs were gone and the blond strands that framed her face had a slight wave to them. It made her seem soft and exposed.

Aside from that, Molly was just as Will had remembered her though it had been close to half a year since he’d seen her.

From where he stood in the corner of the living room of her new home he watched as she lifted two large bags of groceries onto the countertop in the kitchen. This place was modern and spotless, undoubtedly the result of a heavy suggestion (if not demand) of Jack’s when their bodies hadn’t been found. It was also small - far too small for all the dogs. Will knew that they wouldn’t be here - that Molly had found family and friends to take them in when her husband had gone missing (presumed to be dead) - but a part of him had still hoped at least one of them would be here.

“Molly.”

Though he said her name as softly as he could, she still screamed. Lurching herself around so that she faced him, Molly backed into the counter while her eyes struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Will?”

He took a careful step towards her, his hands loose at his side.

“Will?” she pushed off the counter and brought her hands up to her mouth.

“Will, oh my God!” her voice was muffled by her fingers. “Oh my - oh, Jesus Christ!”

She came towards him them, lowering her hands from her face and flinging her arms tight around his shoulders. Her breath was hot against his ear, her body trembling from sobs. 

“Will, oh my god,” she cried. “I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead.”

Gently, Will brought his arms up around her and ran them up and down her back in short strokes. The slight weight of her small body was fully leaned into him for support.

“Oh, my sweet man,” she said as she pulled back to look at him. “Where have you been? What happened?”

She pulled her fingers up to carefully touch the scar on his cheek. Reaching a hand up, Will gasped at her wrist and pulled her hand away, bringing it between them but not letting go.

“Molly-”

“When Jack called me - he said Lecter had escaped and that you were gone and, oh Jesus, he said it was likely you were dead but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it, I didn’t! He said they’d found your blood near the cliff and that it was possible you’d gone over. They’d searched and searched but I knew they wouldn’t find you. God, my sweet man, where have you been?”

The tears were flowing freely down her face but her voice had evened out. As she’d spoken, Will’s body had gone more and more rigid and though he didn’t move away, he released her hand. 

“Will?” she asked, wiping at her damp cheeks. “Will, what’s wrong?”

His insides were coated with jagged glass; his chest felt like it was caving in on itself. He could feel the antlers fighting their way through his skull.

“Molly,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m not staying.”

She held her breath as her brain struggled to make sense of what he’d said.

  
“What?” she asked. “What do you mean? Do you need the phone? Can’t you just call them?”

“No, Molly,” he continued. “Here. I’m not staying here.”

Blinking, she inhaled a shaky lungful of air before she took a small step back. 

“What do you mean? Of course you are. Will?”

“I didn’t want to do this, Molly,” he said. “But I couldn’t just send them.”

It was then that she noticed the large orange folder on the counter. Sniffing, she shook her head. 

“Will-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Molly, I’m sorry. I am. And I love you. And Walter. But I’m not staying. You won’t see me again.”

Reaching for his left hand, Will pulled the gold band off his finger and held it towards her. Molly stood still before him, her mouth open, not moving. Lowering his eyes, Will placed it on top of the folder on the counter.

“But why?” Molly asked, her voice breaking. “Will? Why?”

In his head, Will had rehearsed this a million times and in all of those fantasies it had never worked out. As he was preparing to force out a combination of all of his various explanations, Molly’s face suddenly blanched, her gaze locked over Will’s shoulder. She was frozen, mouth trembling and Will didn’t need to turn around to know what she was looking at.

Hannibal was standing in the doorway behind him.

Knees buckling, Molly took a step back.

“He’s not going to hurt you, Molly,” Will said, reaching to steady her.

She shoved his hands away and pulled herself upright again.

“Will . . . what? I mean, Jesus!”

As the color retuned to her face - her cheeks flushing - Will took a small step back away from her. 

“Will,” she continued, her voice raising. “What . . . what the fuck did he do to you? Is this a joke?”

Will remained silent. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes at his back.

“This . . . this is the man who tried to kill you? The man who cut into your head? Who killed that girl - Abigail - and your friend at the FBI?! Will . . . the fucking Chesapeake Ripper?”

Will met her eyes but he didn’t speak.

“Will?”

“We’re leaving, Molly. You won’t see us again. I’m sorry.”

Her hands and fingers were trembling. The sounds of her breathing bounced off the walls of the kitchen.

“Will you tell Walter that I - ”

The crack of her palm against the side of his face was thunderous and the force of it snapped Will’s head to the side. The tears were falling down her cheeks again.

“Get the _fuck_ out of my house.”

Pushing his tongue against the cheek she’d struck, Will turned to leave but before he could move, Molly had rushed past him. She slowed her stride as she approached Hannibal - their eyes meeting without either of them showing any signs of submission - before she continued on and flung the front door open. 

Turning to face him, Hannibal watched as Will moved from the kitchen and followed in Molly’s wake. He resisted the urge to place a hand on the small of his back as he followed him to the front door. Without another word to her, Will walked outside - Hannibal at his heels - and exhaled as the door was slammed behind them. 

As they walked towards the stolen car that was parked a few blocks away, Will felt a sting in his eyes.

“Fuck.”

Hannibal regarded him as they kept walking.

“She’ll be calling Jack.”  
  
“Yeah, I _know_ , Hannibal.”

Will paused when he realized that Hannibal was no longer at his side. The expression on the older man’s face was questioning and accommodating.

“I said ‘no’,” Will said. “Leave her alone.”

“This is a mistake.”

“Yeah, well, it’s mine to make. Come on.”

Moving again, they made their way in silence back to the car. The air on Will’s left ring finger felt cold and foreign. In his mind, he saw his entire hand detaching at the wrist and blowing away. Darting his fingers out, Will took hold of Hannibal’s hand and squeezed.


	6. Obsidian

As Will made his way back towards the lavish bar of the opera house he slowed his pace and came to a gradual stop at the sight of a well dressed woman, dripping in diamonds, sitting next to Hannibal on the stool he’d vacated not more than five minutes ago. Her dress was tight on her slender frame and Will watched as she removed her shrug, fanning her face with her hand and laughing about the temperature in the room as if it weren’t chilly.

Hannibal was staring at her like he stared at all of them: his eyes were soft and patient, his lips curled slightly upward. Will had no idea what he was saying but he was sure it was infuriatingly charming. His fingers were idly wrapped around his half-empty champagne flute on the bar; Will’s empty one still sat next to it, missed or ignored by the woman who was now laughing too hard at whatever it was that Hannibal had just said.

Will could feel the heat slowly rising up his ears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left Hannibal’s side in public and come back to find him alone; everywhere they went Will watched eyes fall on him. Though it was normally not blatant it _was_ ever-present and Will would find himself reaching for him then, usually with a careful hand between his shoulder blades or on the small of his back.

If Hannibal noticed such attention from strangers (which Will was almost certain that he did) he never showed it. And Hannibal was a striking man; Will felt like it wasn’t fair to scold the hungry eyes that scanned him. Regardless, it never failed to bring out a fire in him that he had yet to learn how to ignore.

And now, as this strange woman leaned in to brush her fingertips against Hannibal’s knee, Will felt the blood thunder between his ears. As he made his way through the crowd back to the bar, he saw Hannibal lean away from her touch and while the woman removed her hand, she didn’t seem otherwise phased.

Will didn’t take his eyes off her until he was practically at Hannibal’s side. 

Turning just before he reached him, Hannibal moved to say his name but was cut off by Will’s open mouth pushed against his. With a hand on either side of his neck, Will pressed his chest into Hannibal’s shoulder as he breathed into him until he was forced to part for air.

Though he didn’t look to her, Will noted that the woman’s body had frozen.

“I’m ready to go home,” Will said as he took a step away, waiting.

“Certainly,” Hannibal answered without hesitation, reaching for his wallet and leaving a tip for the bartender before he smiled gently at the woman across from him. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

With that he stood from the stool and followed Will outside. The walk back to the car was quiet and when they reached the black sedan, Will watched as Hannibal made his way to driver’s side door and slid into the leather bucket seat. 

Will’s entire body was tingling - aching and eager and wild.

Opening his door and taking his seat as the car’s engine roared to life, Will reached over and pulled Hannibal’s hand away as he moved to put on his seatbelt. Turning his body so that his hip was pressed into the center console, Will shoved a rough hand through the hair on the side of Hannibal’s head and pulled himself to him with a crushing clash of lips and teeth. The air slowly grew hot around them and keeping their mouths pushed together, Will’s fingers slipped down to the bowtie at the base of Hannibal’s neck, working roughly to undo it.  

Hannibal pulled away slightly and moved as if to keep the fabric from getting crushed but was met by a firm hand on his throat. Will stared into him, grabbing the cloth with impatient fingers and pulling it roughly away from Hannibal’s neck. 

Wrapping his fingers around Will’s wrist, Hannibal sought his mouth again, his tongue pushing in and licking where his lips couldn’t reach. His body was leaning toward him now, pushing against him at an angle, but Will pushed back harder with two hands against Hannibal’s chest until the older man’s back was flush against the seat.

Moving closer, Will pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to the stubbled skin at Hannibal’s jaw and throat, working his way down to the skin newly bared by each of the buttons of Hannibal’s shirt he undid with a quick snap of his fingers. Moving his body closer, Will pulled one hand away from Hannibal’s neck and slid it down until it settled on the hardening flesh between his legs. Hannibal moaned then - a quiet thing - into his mouth.

Pulling back, Will found Hannibal’s lips swollen, his eyes hooded and dazed. He leaned back in, almost close enough to kiss, as his other hand came down to Hannibal’s waist and worked the fly of his slacks open. Hannibal gasped slightly as his cock hit the humid, exposed air building inside the car and as he leaned in to find his mouth, Will moved away, swallowing Hannibal into a deep, rich heat.

“Will.”

It wasn’t a question or a plea.

It just was. 

Will heard Hannibal’s breath hitch in his throat as he worked his lips and tongue up and down and up down, increasing his speed and then slowing it to take him further back until he felt Hannibal at the very back of his throat. His eyes burned and stung against his gag reflex and he pulled away to then quickly grab at his cock with a spit slicked hand, moving it up, down, and around the base while he took the head back into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip. 

Hannibal was pushing himself back deeper into the seat, his right hand coming to rest on Will’s shoulder while his left grabbed at his own neck. In the time that they’d been with one another following their plunge into the Atlantic, Will had been slow in building comfortability and confidence when Hannibal had touched him, seeming to always be braced for the tender life they’d been building to come crashing down.

Though it was clear to them both now that the foundation was strong, the vast majority of their affections were reserved for the warm enclosure of their home.

Never had either of them been this bold in public and although Hannibal felt that he should be keeping an eye focused through the slightly tinted windows, he found himself unable to keep them open.

As the pressure in his belly continued to build, Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s shoulder until he made a small fist with the fabric of Will’s jacket. Below him, Will pulled his mouth away and leaned further over Hannibal’s thighs to the other side of the seat, stopping when he found the small handle and yanking up on it to push the seat farther back into the car.

With more room between Hannibal and the steering wheel, Will climbed over the center console and pulled himself fully into Hannibal’s lap, crushing his erection between their two bodies. Reaching down, Hannibal moved to the fly of Will’s slacks but was stopped by Will’s hand on his wrist and a sharp, heavy thrust of his hips. Pushing his wrist away, Will moved his arm down between their bodies and grabbed at Hannibal’s cock again, continuing his previous rhythm. The shoulder of his working hand bumped against Hannibal’s neck as the older man grabbed at his ass to pull him harder against his body. 

“Will.”

Again, there was nothing subliminal in Hannibal’s voice, only the timbre of a man who perhaps still struggled with accepting his reality. 

When he came, it brought a violent shudder from his body and a wanton, desperate moan up from his throat. Will latched his lips around his Adam’s apple as if he meant to rip the sound from him. 

***

The ride home was mostly silent, Hannibal turning to attempt to meet Will’s gaze more than once and finding him staring blankly out the window at the passing trees and streetlights. As they turned off the main road and began the long drive up to their secluded home, Hannibal turned the high beams on and sighed softly under his breath.

“Is there something which you’d care to discuss, Will?” he asked. 

Will turned away from the window but only to focus directly in front of him instead.

“Nope.”

“You’re quite sure?” Hannibal pressed. “You’ve seemed rather distracted since we left.”

In his mind, Will saw that woman with her fingers on Hannibal’s knee. The man who’d feigned accidentally bumping into him four days ago. The woman who’d called attention to his presence to a gaggle of her girlfriends at the market two weeks before. All the wandering, hungry eyes that followed Hannibal wherever he went.

Will wanted to pull their eyes from their sockets and break the delicate bones in their hands. 

“Uh huh,” Will said. “Now, if there’s something _you’d_ like to discuss I’m sure you can find one of your admirers to chat with.”

Pulling up to their garage, Hannibal parked but kept the ignition running.

“Do you disapprove of me speaking with strangers, Will?”

Will laughed under his breath.

“No,” he said.

“But you don’t like it?”

“I don’t like the _way_ they look at you,” Will explained.

“And how do they look at me?”

Turning to him, Will shot him a knowing stare.

“Like they want to eat you alive.”

Hannibal smiled in a way that made Will want to punch him in the face.

“And you disapprove of this why?” Hannibal asked. “Because you think they will? Because you think that I would allow them to?”

Hannibal turned off the engine of the car. The sound of his seatbelt unlocking filled the interior.

“Or because you want to be the only one who does?”

Will pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and tasted Hannibal there. He turned to face him with an expression of severity.

“I don’t like anyone else looking at you,” he rumbled. “Or touching you. I don’t like the idea of anyone thinking that you’re up for grabs.”

Leaning in, Hannibal’s hand came to rest on the side of Will’s face.

“Do you think me a fickle man?” he asked, his face close enough to kiss.

“No, it’s not that,” Will said. “I just . . . I don’t like people even thinking that they have a shot. And it makes me feel like I don’t exist. Like I’m invisible.”

Hannibal released Will’s seatbelt with a push of his finger.

“Like that woman tonight,” Will continued. “She must have been watching you - waiting for me to leave. Did she come sit down the second I got up?”  
  
Hannibal nodded. Will felt the anger building in his chest again.

“Why didn’t you tell her to fuck off?” he asked. “Or at least tell her that that seat was taken?”

Hannibal kissed him then, soft and careful. 

“Perhaps I enjoy seeing you riled up,” he said against his lips.

“Of course you do.”

Hannibal moved his mouth to the soft spot behind his ear. Will felt his cock twitch immediately.

“You are not invisible,” Hannibal whispered against him. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

Will closed his eyes as Hannibal’s mouth moved down the side of his neck, pausing to nip and suck, encouraging small bruises.

“When we are out together there are constantly eyes upon you,” Hannibal whispered. “Taking you in, taking you apart.”

Will’s hand moved up the back of his neck and into his hair. 

“It is ever-present,” he continued, his lips sucking harder between words. “Do you not notice?”

“No,” Will said truthfully, his voice heavy.

Hannibal’s hand dropped between his legs and palmed the flesh there.

“That is because I always find their gaze first,” he said. 

Will pushed his hips against Hannibal’s hand, his body quickly returning to the unquenched state of arousal of an hour ago.

“They know from the look in my eye that you’re mine,” Hannibal growled. “And that any attempt to get closer would be quite ill advised.”

His teeth were all over his neck, leaving claiming marks that would last days. Will eyed the backseat and considering dragging Hannibal into it.

“I would like very much for you to always be marked,” Hannibal said, his hand pulling Will’s shirt from his slacks to find the warm skin of his stomach. His fingers played against the scar there. “For all to see."

Hannibal’s hand massaged his cock through his slacks.

“Not terribly practical,” Will breathed. “Maybe something semi-permanent and less severe?”

As Will pushed up to slide his jacket off, Hannibal stopped him with two hands on the side of his face. He looked into his eyes as though he was unable to move away, frozen by a creature who would soon tempt him into dashing himself to death against a wall of rock.

“Come inside,” Hannibal said. “Let me take you apart.”

**

After breakfast the next day, Hannibal had left to go into town, not returning for several hours. When he came back, he found Will outside in their small barn working on several new lures. Approaching him with his hands behind his back, he waited until he was directly in front of him before he produced a small, black box.

“Hey,” Will said, looking up at him and down to the box. “What’s this?”

“Something semi-permanent and less severe.”

Will brushed his hands against each other and opened it, finding a reflective, thick, black ring inside.

“If you’d like, we can file papers to make something more official,” Hannibal offered. “More traditional. But for the time being, perhaps this will do.”

Pulling the ring from its box, Will moved it around in his hand and watched the light move across it in quick, white bursts. They had discussed the idea of marriage before - more as a means to claim legal rights to one other should either of them be apprehended - but they had last left it as being too simple a thing to encompass what they were to one another.

As Will looked at the ring between his fingers and down to Hannibal’s left hand where he’d already slid an identical band onto his own finger, he felt a flutter in his chest. He thought of the black rock which made up the ring tapping against Hannibal’s wine glass when they were out. Of seeing the stark black contrast against his pale skin when he pushed a door open ahead of them. Of feeling the cool metal against his skin. Of eyes seeing the ring catch the light. Of seeing his own do the same. 

“Thank you,” Will said. “It’s beautiful.”

Hannibal watched as Will slipped the ring onto his finger before he turned and walked toward the house. Will watched him walk away before he turned back to his work station, tying off the lure he was working on and following Hannibal into their home.


	7. Lady D’Arbanville

The clouds that had hung deeply grey and heavy as the evening had creeped in finally opened and gave way to a steady downpour of rain. The sweet, musky smell of the hot stone balcony being cooled blew in through the open door along with a sudden breeze, billowing the long, off white curtains.

His lips curling up in contentment, Will stretched languidly from where he lay on his back on the couch. The sounds of metal clicking, scraping, and oil sizzling came from the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of garlic and ginger. 

Behind him, the speakers faded to silence as the previous song ended and the next began: a gentle plucking of an acoustic guitar and a soft masculine voice. Will pushed back into the couch as the lyrics whirled though the room with the wind, accented by the wet taps of the rain. 

_My Lady d'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still // I’ll wake you tomorrow // and you will be my fill // yes, you will be my fill._

Turning his head toward the kitchen, Will listened to Hannibal work - catching his shadow moving back and forth - as he prepared their dinner: bok choy and mushrooms simmered in a garlic, black bean, and ginger sauce and tossed with strips of marinated loin provided by a surly man who’d verbally accosted a young cashier at the market the other day.

Coming to stand, Will’s bare feet moved across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen. Hannibal’s back was to him, facing the stove in a pair of light grey linen pants and a button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. For a moment, Will watched the muscles his in arm contract as he moved the pan, tossing the vegetables and meat around with a quick jerk of his shoulder.

Coming up behind him, Will wrapped his arms around the apron at Hannibal’s waist, turning his head to the side and resting his cheek in-between his shoulder blades. Pushing back into him slightly, Hannibal continued moving the vegetables and meat around the pan.

From the other room, Will listened to the music continue.

_My Lady d'Arbanville, why does it grieve me so // but your heart seems so silent // why do you breathe so low // why do you breathe so low?_

Pushing his hips harder against him, Will’s left hand fell to his waist while the other slipped around him to turn the burner off. Hannibal turned his head as the blue flame under the pan was extinguished.

“Will?”

Moving away, Will took his hand and walked back to the main room, coming to stop in front of the open door of the balcony. The rain had picked up and was nearly overpowering the music. Leaving Hannibal standing by the door, Will turned the volume up before he returned to him. He took Hannibal’s hands and placed them on his hips, his own coming up around the back of his neck and clasping together at his nape.

_My Lady d’Arbanville // why do you sleep so still // I‘ll wake you tomorrow // and you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill._

Locking their eyes, Will began to move their bodies slowly, his fingers pushing into the skin at Hannibal’s hairline. Hannibal brought their foreheads together and slid his hands around him to the small of his back. The cool, wet air helped guide them side to side in a gentle sway.

_My Lady d’Arbanville // you look so cold tonight // your lips feel like winter // your skin has turned to white // your skin has turned to white._

Hannibal’s nose was moving down to the space below his ear, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips in. Though they’d been living intimately for close to two years, Will felt his body react as it always did whenever Hannibal touched him; the hair on his arms came to a stand and a small shiver ran through him.

_My Lady d’Arbanville // why do you sleep so still // I’ll wake you tomorrow // and you will be my fill // yes, you will be my fill._

Moving his lips to the space between Will’s neck and shoulder, Hannibal rested there as his left hand moved under the back of Will’s shirt to push against his bare skin; the cool press of his ring made Will sigh and grip harder at the wisps at his hairline. They pushed their bodies closer together as they continued to rock, their cocks both slightly hard.

_My Lady d’Arbanville // why do you grieve me so // but your heart seems so silent // why do you breathe so low // why do you breathe so low?_

Lowering his hands away from his head, Will slid them down and away so he could thread them under Hannibal’s arms and lock them back together with his hands over his shoulders. Hannibal’s own hands moved away from the skin of his lower back, traveling lower to the round muscle of his ass and squeezing there.

_I loved you my lady // though in your grave you lie // I’ll always be with you // this rose will never die // this rose will never die._

Tilting his head up, Will waited for Hannibal to do the same so he could quietly bring their mouths together, taking Hannibal’s upper lip between the two of his. For a man who so often appeared to be composed of hard angles and edges, Will still hadn’t gotten used to how soft his lips were. Hannibal’s hands pulled him closer as his tongue slipped inside Will’s mouth, tasting. Their kisses were growing harder and more hungry and Will knew that if they didn’t stop soon, they’d end up fucking on the floor.

_I loved you my lady // though in your grave you lie // I’ll always be with you // this rose will never die // this rose will never die._

As the song came to an end the sound of the rain took over, the playlist having concluded. Pushing hard against Hannibal’s hips, Will lifted his head and kissed him once, twice, quickly. His left hand moved up to Hannibal’s chest, gently pushing him away as he admired the contrast of his own black ring against the white of Hannibal’s shirt. Smiling, Hannibal pulled his hand from his chest, entwining their fingers as he then released them on his walk back into the kitchen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is [Lady D'Arbanville by Cat Stevens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZP54bClDRw).


	8. Bridge

The hazard lights of the car blinked continuously, casting flashes of deep yellow light down the otherwise black road. Hannibal listened to the sound of Will’s boots as he traversed the heavily grassed area, his phone acting as a flashlight as he searched. They’d been pulled over on the side of the desolate road for close to ten minutes now.

Hannibal resisted the urge to ask him, again, if he was sure.

“Do you see anything?”

Will’s voice was barely audible, drowned out by a passing gust of wind.

Hannibal elected not to answer rather than yelling. Instead he continued his survey of the road’s edge while Will moved deeper into the trees beyond it. He found himself having grown quite irritated - tired and more than ready for a hot shower - when he saw it: a patch of grass stained with a trickle of blood. Leaning down he touched it with the tips of his fingers and found it to still be wet.

Carefully moving ahead, Hannibal followed the broken and bent blades until he found what they had been looking for.

“Will,” he said loudly.

“What?”

“Here.”

The light from Will’s phone grew closer, casting violent shadows across the landscape, until he stood before him and followed his gaze to the grey lump curled on the ground.

“Oh, shit,” Will said as he handed his phone to Hannibal. “Can you hold this? Can keep the light on us?”

Nodding, Hannibal did as he was asked while Will slowly made his approach, his knees bendingdeeply as he walked.

“Hey,” he said softly.“Hey there.”

Weakly, the dog lowered its head and moved to stand, soon collapsing again under its own weight. Its body was thin and caked with patches of blood and badly healed wounds. Around its neck were the telltale teethmarks of a choke collar. As Will got closer, it growled in warning.

“Will,” Hannibal said, alarmed.

“Shh, it’s fine,” Will insisted. “Just keep your voice down.”

Hannibal pressed his lips together as Will crept closer, seemingly ignoring the dog’s clear warnings. In a small burst of anger, the dog hurled itself forward and snapped its teeth. Before he could react, Will was pulled backwards and upright by a firm hand on the back of his arm.

“Will, no,” Hannibal said. “This animal is clearly injured and aggressive.”

“No, no, _stop_ ,” Will said, pulling himself free. “He can tell you’re tense, just - be quiet.”

“Will!” His voice was elevated now. “I have no desire to take you to a hospital this evening.”

“Hannibal,” Will turned to face him, the light from his phone hiding his eyes in the shadows of his sharp cheekbones. “Trust me, okay? Please. Just give me a minute.”

Opening his mouth to speak, Hannibal held his breath a moment and exhaled silently, watching with attentive eyes as Will turned back to the dog.

“Hey,” Will whispered. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Will was on his knees now, his right hand extended out towards the dog’s scarred nose. With lowered ears the dog leaned in and took a quick sniff before pulling back again. As Will crawled closer it licked the air nervously, its body twitching as it prepared to flee.

“That’s good,” Will said. “That’s a’good boy.”

Extending his hand again, Will smiled as the dog took another sniff and thumped its tail once on the ground.

“Hannibal,” Will said. “There’s a blanket in the trunk. Can you bring it to me?”

“No,” came the quick response.

Slowly turning, Will looked up at him from where he was kneeling.

“Will, this animal is gravely wounded,” he said. “The best thing for it is to be put out of its misery.”

“No,” Will said, struggling to keep his voice low. “It’s not that bad. He’s malnourished and has some fresh wounds. It looks like whoever had him used him for fighting. It happens to pit bulls a lot.”

Hannibal craned his neck to get a look at the dog’s backside.

“If that’s the case do you think it wise to bring an intact fighting dog home?”

“He doesn’t have to stay,” Will bargained. “I can take him to a shelter tomorrow. But if he stays out here tonight, he’ll die.”

Will slowly rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off his knees with his hands.

“Please,” he asked softly. “I promise, I’ll take him to the vet in the morning.”

Hannibal sighed again and lowered his eyes as he turned towards the car without a word. Stepping back towards the dog, Will kneeled again and reached towards him, carefully petting his small, cropped ears.

“You’re going to be okay, buddy.”

The dog was shivering, both from exposure and nerves. In his mind, Will briefly fantasized about finding the person responsible and cutting them open from groin to chin with a dull blade. As Hannibal’s shadow approached, Will turned and took the blanket from him.

“Thank you,” he said. “Can you go open the backdoor?”

“It’s open already.”

“Oh,” Will said, turning to look. “Thank you.”

Hannibal watched as Will slid closer to the dog, speaking softly as he wrapped the blanket around it and came to his feet with it in his arms. With careful steps Will walked back towards the car and gently let the dog down onto the backseat before crawling in beside him.

Hannibal’s posture tightened as he closed the backdoor before getting behind the wheel.

**

Opening the door to their home, Hannibal was greeted by familiar wagging tails. He extended them both a quick greeting before snapping his fingers and telling them to move back and sit. Immediately, both mutts did as they were instructed. Turning back towards the front door, Hannibal held it open as Will walked through with the pit bull wrapped in his arms. He also quickly greeted the other two before he walked into the house and into Hannibal’s open office.

 _Of course_ , Hannibal thought.

Standing in the main room, the older man’s hands reached down and stroked the fur of the two Labrador mixes wagging at his feet. The younger one jumped up to try and lick his face.

“ _Shelle_ _y_ , no,” Hannibal said sternly.

Coming back to her feet, she nuzzled into the back of his legs instead.

“Stay,” Hannibal said to both of them as he walked back into his office.

Will had the dog on the blanket in the middle of the room as he carefully inspected his injuries. As his fingers gently prodded under his neck, there was a loud, sharp yelp. Again, Hannibal moved forward.

“It’s okay,” Will said. “I’m fine. Some of these are worse than I thought. They look infected. And deep.”

Will moved over to where Hannibal stood at the door.

“Will you help me?”

Bringing a hand to the side of his face, Hannibal rubbed his thumb against Will’s cheek before he moved into the room and opened the doors to the large armoire. When he turned around with a large medical supply bag, Will was back at the dog’s side. As Will opened the bag and looked through its contents, Hannibal left the room and returned a few minutes later with an IV stand and a clear, plastic bag of fluids. As Will filled a syringe, he watched Hannibal prepare the bag.

“Thank you.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Should he be muzzled?”

“No, I think he’ll be okay.”

Slowly, Will pushed a small catheter through a bulging vein in the dog’s leg.

“There, see?” he said, more to the dog than to Hannibal. “He’s fine.”

Carefully and quietly they worked, Will administering a small dose of Propofol while Hannibal cleaned the dog’s wounds and stitched the ones which needed it. Once everything was done, he connected the IV bag with the catheter in the dog’s leg and wrapped it in gauze. The dog seemed to be rousing from his mild sedation just as they finished up.

“I wonder if I can get him to eat,” Will asked as he stood up.

Two curious dogs blocked his path out of the room.

“Hey, ladies,” Will said as he enthusiastically embraced them both. “Are you hungry too?”

Hannibal listened to the click of their nails as they followed Will to the kitchen.

**

It was just past 2 AM when Hannibal woke up, alone. He’d left Will and their injured guest with the former’s assurance that he would join him before too long.

That was at 11.

Coming to his feet, he made his way downstairs and towards his office. Shelley and Harper were both laying in front of the closed door. Stepping carefully between them, Hannibal pushed it open and found Will laying on his side in front of the dog, asleep. Bending at the knee, Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Will.”

“Hmm?” came a dazed and weak response.

“Come to bed.”

Stretching once, Will made no move to get up.

“No,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna stay here. In case he needs something.”

Hannibal felt a pang in his gut. In the time that he and Will had been living together he’d grown surprisingly (and quickly) accustomed to sleeping next to him. For a brief moment, he considered picking him up and carrying him upstairs but instead moved to the small closet near the back of the house. Grabbing a spare pillow and blanket, he returned to his office and brought the pillow under Will’s head before draping the blanket across his body.

As he moved to head back upstairs, Harper turned to look at him.

“Come on,” he said.

Joyfully, she followed him as Shelley stayed by the door. The older dog knew from experience that an invitation to follow upstairs at night meant a rare treat to sleep in the main bed. It was something that Hannibal had been adamantly against but had begrudgingly come to enjoy, especially when faced with the prospect of an otherwise empty bed. 

As he slid back under the covers, Harper jumped up and curled next to his feet. 

**

Hannibal woke with the dawn after a restless night of sleep. Turning to his side, he found the bed still empty. As he put his feet on the floor Harper’s tailed thumped against the mattress. She jumped out of the bed and joined him on his journey downstairs.

Looking into his office, Hannibal found it empty.

Walking to the front door, he moved to let Harper out into the yard just as the door was pushed open from the outside. Will’s clothes and boots were dirty, his hands caked and the undersides of his nails black with soil. His eyes were red and puffy. Hannibal stepped aside as he walked in, Harper running out and beginning a chase with Shelley around the isolated grounds.

Hannibal closed the door and turned to face him. 

Will picked at a splinter in his hand.

“I’m going to go take a shower.”

Hannibal nodded as he walked away, his footfalls heavy.

Looking out the window, he watched the dogs run around for a moment before he made his way up the stairs, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. When the water was finally shut off, Will emerged a few moments later with a towel around his waist.

He came to sit next to him. 

“You were right,” he said. “I should have just let him go last night.”

Hannibal’s hand came to clasp at the nape of his neck, his thumb moving against the wet skin there. 

“It was stupid to bring him back when he was that far gone.”

His eyes were filling with tears, shimmering with the morning light. Hannibal took his hand and turned it upwards, looking for the splinter Will had been fidgeting with before. 

“I got it.”

Rubbing the skin with his thumb, the older man pulled his hand to his lips and kissed Will’s open palm and wrist.

“Had you considered names?”

Will looked at him then and sighed, quickly wiping away a tear that broke though.

“Joyce.”

“Ah, I would have fought you there,” Hannibal said. “I find him to be pedantic and pretentious.”

Laughing, Will pushed his shoulder into him.

“ _Pedantic and pretentious_ ,” he smiled. “Doctor Lecter finds James Joyce to be pedantic and pretentious.” 

Hannibal smiled and pushed his forehead against his.

“What about Bram? or Twain? Cormac?”

“Better,” Hannibal said. “For next time.”

Leaning in, Hannibal kissed him chastely on the mouth.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Will,” he said. “I should think that that animal’s final moments here, with you and a canine fellow watching over him, were far preferable to being alone and frightened on the side of the road.”

Pushing another tear away, Will nodded as Hannibal moved from the room, heading to the kitchen to start breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	9. Repeat

Opening the door to the house, Hannibal wiped his feet on the doormat and made his way to the kitchen. He heard the click of excited paws and was greeted by two swiftly swaying canine bodies not a moment before he’d lifted the bags of groceries to the counter. Casting them a quick glance, both dogs came to sit near his feet, their feathered tails brushing back and forth behind them.

Following his movements, Harper and Shelley watched him reach into the bags, their tongues licking around their mouths in anticipation. After searching a moment, Hannibal pulled out a single sausage link and tore it in half, bending to hand a piece to each dog in an open palm. With learned gentleness the dogs took their treats and then greedily swallowed them down.

Turning to the sink, Hannibal rinsed his hands before heading up the stairs in the direction the dogs had come from. He found Will sitting on their bed, crosslegged with a laptop between his bent knees, and headphones around his ears.

“Hey,” he said, pulling the headphones down and letting them hang around his neck. “When did you get home?”

“Just now,” Hannibal answered as he walked towards him. “The dogs have been on the bed.”

Will watched as he smoothed the duvet with his hand, pulling back with strands of dark yellow fur between his fingers.

“They - ”

He debated.

“Have been. Yes.”

“We agreed not to allow them to be comfortable with that,” Hannibal said as he brushed the fur away vigorously now. “You’re spoiling them.”

“We agreed not to let them be _too_ comfortable with it,” Will said. “This was a special occasion; they were helping me.”

Hannibal came to sit next to him, pulling one leg under himself as he did. On Will’s laptop screen was the language learning software he’d purchased a few months ago; a sentence about a man asking a woman to repeat something she had just said was written in French and awaiting a translation.

“It keeps yelling at me over this word,” Will said. “Repeter.”

Hannibal closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“As it should,” he said. “Your pronunciation is atrocious.”

“That’s helpful. Thank you.”

Hannibal moved closer to him and took his chin in his hand, turning Will’s head to face him.

“ _Répéter_ ,” he said slowly. “Ré-pé-ter.”

“Repeter.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“ _Répéter_.”

“Repeter.”

“ _Répéter_.”

“Repeter.”

“This is ridiculous. My mouth won’t make that sound.”

Hannibal smiled.

“That’s because you’re _using your mouth_ when you should be using your throat,” he explained as he removed the headphones from around Will’s neck and returned to brush the long column of his throat with his fingers.

“The sound comes from the back of your throat,” he said as he increased the pressure of his fingers. “As if you are swallowing them down.”

Will smirked at him and repeated the troublesome word.

“Better,” Hannibal said. “Try again. Imagine the word is stuck on the very back of your tongue like molasses. Push it down as you speak.”

Will swallowed, imaging the thick, dark, sweetness. He said it again.

Hannibal picked the computer up and placed it on the edge of the bed.

“ _Très bien._ ”

Will lowered his eyes as Hannibal shifted on the bed, moving to kneel in front of him. With his hands gripping at his thighs he moved Will’s legs so that they unfurled and lay straight and long against the mattress. He placed a knee between his legs and, like a cat, moved up until Will was effectively caged between his arms and by the weight of his body.

Hannibal’s mouth went to the side of his neck, to the soft spot below his ear. Will sighed and closed his eyes, concentrating on the warm, heavy pressure of the body above him. Pulling his lips away and back, away and back, Hannibal kissed all down the side of his throat, placing a hand on the other side of Will’s jaw to hold him.

“You have a fixation,” Will breathed.

He knew from previous encounters that, if allowed, Hannibal would have him like this for hours; until the skin of his neck was slick, red, and covered in dark purple bruises.

“I have an appreciation,” Hannibal corrected.

His teeth carefully held his skin as his lips sucked hard once and then repeated more gently. Under him, Will shifted his weight and pulled Hannibal more fully on top of him, his legs rubbing against his hips before settling around them. As Hannibal’s tongue licked its way to his suprasternal notch, Will’s mind raced back - as it always inevitably did -to the night they’d killed The Great Red Dragon. He fantasied about Hannibal’s teeth ripping his throat open, of feeling the hot, thick blood run down his chest and soaking the sheets beneath him.

He saw Hannibal swallowing his flesh while his own hands fisted on the bloody bed beneath them. Hannibal’s fingers bore into his flesh and pulled his ribs apart. He pushed in to his forearms and pulled his heart from his chest. His still throbbing heart came to Hannibal’s mouth, kissed, licked, and then torn apart by jagged teeth. Hannibal’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed him.

Will saw himself living inside him forever.

Hannibal’s hands moved down and grasped at Will’s wrists, pushing them up and then flat against his head on the bed. The tendons there flexed against the grip as Will flexed his fingers and tipped his head back farther into the mattress, baring his throat as much as he could. A leg slipped from around Hannibal’s hips and the older man released a wrist to pull Will’s leg back up around him before resuming his hold.

“ _Dis le encore._ ”

Hannibal pressed his open mouth to the center of his throat.

“ _Répéter.”_

He gently nipped into the vibration.

“ _Parfait_.”

Will pushed his hips up as Hannibal moved to his jaw on the opposite side of his throat. He licked a hot trail to his ear and pushed his own hips down in response. Using the hold his legs had on Hannibal’s lower back, Will pulled down hard until Hannibal came to rest with nearly the full weight of his body on top of him.

They were both startled by a sudden new and intermittent weight on the mattress.

“Hey, hey!” Will said, turning his head to the side and catching flashes of Shelly’s body.

Hannibal pulled his lips from his neck and dramatically collapsed, releasing Will’s wrists as he did. 

“Get down!”

Shelley considered for a moment before she complied and sat near the head of the bed on the floor, staring at the two tangled humans with a knowing urgency. Will ran a hand up Hannibal’s clothed spine and stopped as he reached his hairline.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said as he felt Hannibal’s mouth begin to form words. “I know. It’s their dinner time anyway.”

Dropping his hand from the nape of his neck, Will slapped at the slope of flesh where Hannibal’s thigh met his ass and wiggled out from under him. Just before he stood to get off the bed, Hannibal grabbed his hand and squeezed once before letting go and coming to stand as well.

Will rubbed his neck with his hands as Shelley led him downstairs. 


	10. Promises

Will stood leaning against the frame of the door watching the muscles in Hannibal’s back and shoulders move as he continuing packing the small duffel bag which was resting on the bed. He crossed his arms across his chest as Hannibal checked the contents of his small black toiletries case before placing it in the larger bag and zipping it up.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

Hannibal slung the bag over his shoulder and moved to leave the room, stopping when Will made no attempt to move himself.

“Yes, you have said as much already.”

Will held his ground as Hannibal cocked his head to the side and rolled his right shoulder, the bag bouncing against his back gently.

“Will,” he said.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Will,” Hannibal repeated. “I will miss my flight.”

A wave of desperation rushed through him. Will thought of how he could lock Hannibal in, keep him restrained. What could he possibly do to physically keep him here? He had starting conjuring up ways to stop Hannibal from leaving the moment he’d told him that he’d located Alana, Margot, and their son. Nothing that he saw himself doing - or saying - had worked.

“Can you tell me why?” he asked.

Exasperated, Hannibal swung the bag off his shoulder and let it hit the floor with a heavy _thump_.

“I’ve explained this to you already,” he said. “More than once.”

“Tell me again.”

“I gave her a choice. She chose. I made her a promise.”

“Yeah,” Will said. “Yeah, you did.”

Will could feel the rain soaking him through as he approached Alana’s broken body at Hannibal’s door; he felt naked with his wet shirt clinging to him as he took his coat off and covered her with it.

_Jack’s inside._

“You made her more than one,” Will continued.

Hannibal held his gaze.

“Yes, which I also kept,” he said.

“Isn’t that enough?” Will asked. “Hannibal, we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.”

Hannibal’s eyes softened and his voice dropped to a timbre of an exasperated parent. 

“Will - ”

“Don’t. Don’t do that,” he interrupted. “You need to do better. You need to make me understand. Tell me why a promise made five years ago warrants you killing their entire family.”

“Would it make a difference if only a single year had gone by?”

“Yes,” Will said. “We’ve moved on, haven’t we? You’re - _we’re_ not what we were.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Will.”

“Of course it does, she’s my friend!” he exclaimed. “The only reason why she let you loose on Muskrat Farm is _because_ she’s my friend. Her life isn’t yours to take anymore.”

Will closed his eyes against the images that were coming. The grounds were littered with the mangled bodies of guards. Margot was cowering in the corner of their bedroom, wailing at Alana’s dead body, crying for their son to run as Hannibal approached. He snapped her little neck as if her bones were hollow, catching the boy in the hallway and doing the same. He died scared and screaming for his dead mothers.

Their bodies were dismembered, diced into cubes and placed in a large glass bowl to marinate.

Hannibal reached for him then and Will jerked back, his eyes flinging open, glistening with unshed tears.

“That boy,” he whispered. “You’ll kill their boy?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answered quickly. “He never should have been.”

There was a tiny, lifeless body in the hallway. Time sped up and it was devoured by swarming insects; little bones turned to dust.

“Don’t do this,” Will said. “If for nothing else than what if you get caught? I’m sure Alana hasn’t slept a night since we went missing and that she’s got guards with them at all times. Are you willing to die for this?”

“I won’t.”

“You could.”

“I won’t.”

“What would happen if you did,” Will asked. “What would happen to me?”

Taking a small step towards him, Will reached for his hand.

“I know you think I’m some sort of . . . _force._ But I can’t do this without you, Hannibal.”

He increased the pressure of his grip.

“I’d be swallowed straight into the earth.”

Will took his other hand.

“Please,” he whispered. “Just stay here. With me.”

Pulling his gaze away, Hannibal shook his hands from Will’s grasp and reached for the duffel bag. He slung it over his shoulder as he moved passed Will, placing a fleeting hand on the space between his shoulder blades as he walked.

“I’ll return in a few days.”

Will listened to the click of hooves on the wood floor - growing fainter - before vanishing behind the closing of the door.

***

It was close to 4 in the morning when Will was pulled from an uneasy sleep. For a moment he just listened, his brain struggling to process in its languid state. When he heard the clear _thump_ of footsteps climbing the stairs he pulled open the drawer of his bedside table and grabbed his gun. His heart sped up as he reached the door to the bedroom; he concentrated on slowing his breathing.

As the footsteps got closer and closer and closer Will pushed himself into the hallway and aimed.

A thin, towering, antlered, monster. 

“Jesus,” he said as he dropped his arms. “I could have shot you.”

Hannibal came closer, the strong bones of his face coming into focus through the dark.

“I am grateful you did not.”

Will watched as Hannibal moved into the bedroom, dropping his bag near the closet. Two rushing rivers of relief and exultation merged in confluence inside him, tinted with a pulse of power. Hannibal stripped down to his briefs as Will returned the gun to his nightstand before sliding back into bed. The mattress dipped with weight as Hannibal joined him. Will settled onto his back as Hannibal slid closer to him, a heavy arm coming to rest across his torso.

There was a gentle press of lips above his heart.


	11. Progression

Slowly, the familiar settings around him fell into place. A streak of moonlight on the white ceiling. His back pressed into the luxurious mattress and sheets. A heavy weight on his chest. Fingers curled just under his throat.

Blinking to clear his vision, Will turned his head to stare at the clock.

3:04.

Closing his eyes again, he pushed back into the bed, his fingers sliding into the hair on the back of Hannibal’s head. In his sleep, Hannibal nuzzled in closer - his cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of Will’s shirt - the fingers at the base of Will’s throat unfurling so that a flat palm lay against him. The warmth from his hand ran through the entire length of Will’s body.

It was strange to think that this was not how it had always been; Will thought about a time when he shared a bed with Hannibal and he didn’t wake with the older man pressed against his chest.

It had been gradual process; an exploration.

A testing of boundaries.

While they’d recovered from their fall into the Atlantic they had initially shared a bed out of situational necessity, working their way through nondescript motels as their broken and bruised bodies healed until they finally arrived at one of Hannibal’s isolated safe houses near the Canadian border. Though the small house was outfitted with a plush couch, neither of them had opted to take it. Instead, they’d made their way silently into the bedroom and slid under the covers of the double bed together.

Though previously they had merely occupied the same space - keeping to their own sides - that night Hannibal had placed a tentative hand on his forearm. Will had turned his head to the side to look at him, not moving for a moment before he rolled onto his side away from him. He pulled the hand off his arm and up to his chest, his fingers holding Hannibal’s in a fist. Behind him, Hannibal’s body relaxed as he pushed his chest flush against Will’s back.

From that night on there was always a point of contact when they fell asleep, though Hannibal was always cautious when he touched him; often waiting for Will to reach out first.

As weeks passed, they kept to their same routine; their days dedicated to repairing and strengthening their bodies. Somedays they’d go on long hikes through the woods, ending with a naked swim in the nearby lake when the water was warm enough. Will watched Hannibal move through the water with growing ease as his muscles repaired.

Will began to feel something in his belly change and grow warm.

Though he’d grown accustomed to seeing Hannibal’s naked body he found himself averting his eyes when they would climb out of the water together. He found himself thinking of how he’d almost kissed him before he’d pulled them over the bluff. Of how he had felt overcome with power and acceptance and love for everything he’d tried so hard to keep buried.

_This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us._

In that one singular moment, the world had clarity. And the one other soul who understood him (perhaps more than he understood himself) held him in his arms. It was a connection that defied all labels, all preconceived ideas of what “love” was.

In the end, Will had pulled back and pushed his head into Hannibal’s chest. He’d listened to the elevated rhythm of his heart and felt at once blissful and resigned. He could still hear the whistle of the wind in his ears as they fell, could feel Hannibal’s arms lock around him as they plummeted towards the water.

And now, months later, those same emotions were coming back though they were now accented with something different but familiar. The same pang Will had felt in his gut when his college sweetheart had broken up with him for being a “freak”. The same sharp flame of panic when he’d learned about the Holocaust in school and found himself pressed against other naked children screaming as they waited for the gas. The shame he felt when he saw the look of unknowing in his father's eyes as he’d picked him up early that day.

“Are you all right, Will,” Hannibal asked. “You’ve seemed to be miles away this evening.”

Will watched his mouth move as he spoke; Hannibal had a beautiful mouth.

“Yeah,” he’s said. “I’m fine. Just distracted.”

That night, as Hannibal had pressed up against him, Will pushed his hips back. The fingers on his chest flexed experimentally.

“Will.”

There was a slight inflection in the way Hannibal said his name, as if it were almost a question.

Inhaling deeply, Will reached for the hand on his chest and pulled it down to the front of his boxers. The seconds dragged on as though the very air around them was weighted with iron. In actuality, Hannibal waited only a moment before he pushed his palm back and cupped the length of Will’s cock through the soft cotton. Will’s mouth fell open as he tipped his chin up, the back of his head coming to rest against Hannibal’s collarbone.

It was so _good_ \- so relieving - to have someone’s hands on him, pulling and grabbing.

Hannibal pulled away, his hand totally gone and for a moment Will felt devastatingly empty.

Behind him he heard Hannibal’s lips smack and when his hand came back it crawled under the waistband of his boxers and enclosed him again with wet fingers. His palms damp, Will grabbed at the sheets near his head and pushed his shoulders back harder. He could feel Hannibal’s erection pushing against him but the older man kept his body still save for the pumping of his arm.

Hannibal’s breath was hot on the curve of his neck.

Will could feel himself building, torn between wanting to let it linger and aching to be spent. He pressed his mouth into his own wrist as he came, stifling a sob of alleviation that tore from him. His heart was hammering in his chest as Hannibal slowed his attentions to a gradual stop, pulling his hand away.

Though Will couldn’t see it, he knew he was licking his fingers clean.

The blood was still thundering between his ears when Hannibal’s hand came back to rest on his hip. Turning over in the bed, Will sought his eyes in the dark of the room. Feeling Hannibal pressed into his thigh, he reached down to touch him with trembling fingers and was stopped with a gentle hand on his wrist. 

“Is this something you want to do?” Hannibal asked. “Or do you feel an obligation?”

Will swallowed, feeling his muscles melding into the bed.

“I don’t know.”

Hannibal leaned in then, moving as if to kiss his mouth and instead veering up to press his lips into his forehead.

“Sleep then.”

And he did.

When he woke the next morning, Hannibal was gone; the smell of sizzling meat and onions billowed in from the kitchen.

**

The next time the sun set they found themselves in the same configuration, with Hannibal’s solid warmth pressed up against him. They’d made no mention of the previous night though Hannibal had acted in a way which Will could only describe as “nervous”, seeming to tiptoe through small talk.

Now, back in the gentle dark, Hannibal’s hand returned to his hip.

“Will?” he whispered into the nape of his neck. “May I?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal’s hand slid down his hip and under his boxers, his warm fingers encircling his cock and moving slowly up and down. Will pushed his hips back and moved in small circles, driving into Hannibal’s crotch. Hannibal’s breath was warm against the side of his neck but again he made no effort to relieve himself.

“Hannibal,” Will said as he pushed back hard. “Please. Please move.”

Immediately Hannibal began to rock his body against him and away, against him and away.

“Oh God,” Will breathed as he pushed back into him, chasing his rhythm.

Hannibal was straining against him and working the hand around Will’s cock faster and harder. His free arm came up above them and grabbed at the hair on the top of Will’s head, pulling back firmly to bare his neck. Hannibal’s lips came to rest on the soft column of his throat, just under his ear, and sucked hard. A moan broke from Will’s mouth and he pushed his shoulder blades back into Hannibal’s chest, a foot reaching back to tangle with one of Hannibal’s ankles.

With a final hard rock back Will came into his hand. Hannibal worked him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, his hand slick with his release. After a moment, he pulled away and wrapped his arm up and around Will’s chest as he continued to thrust against him repeatedly until he went still.

Will thought he heard his name.

They lay there listening to the sounds of their breathing echoing off the walls before Will turned in his arms. He looked at Hannibal for a moment - his eyes heavy and his heart rate still elevated - before he pushed their foreheads together.

“What are we doing?”

Hannibal brought a hand up to rest against Will’s neck.

“Does it require definition?”

Will rubbed his nose against his cheek and brushed his lips against the corner Hannibal’s mouth. It was strange thinking that this man had brought him to orgasm twice but had made no move to kiss him.

“Do you love me?”

Will half expected Hannibal to simply return the question to him laden with a colorful metaphor.

“It seems a shallow way of expressing my feelings for you, Will,” he said.

Hannibal’s thumb rubbed against his skin.

“Were I to try and break down the complications of my emotions, love would be the most succinct way to express it.”

Will’s eyelashes brushed against Hannibal’s cheek.

  
He was right: there was no simple, encompassing way to describe their complication. Hannibal had gone from an annoyance to a confidant, to a betrayer to a seducer, to a soulmate to . . . what? Lover? Partner? Describing Hannibal using any of those terms felt cheap and neglectful. This man who understood him and who he himself understood. This man who was encouraged and aroused by his nature rather than repelled. It was a connection that cast aside sexuality and any boundaries that Will once thought he held in esteem.

He wanted to hurt Hannibal and he wanted to hold him. He wanted to show him off and he wanted to slit the throat of anyone who looked at him. He wanted to fuck him and be fucked by him. He wanted to kiss his face and rip his chest open and crawl inside. 

“And you, Will?” Hannibal asked after a long moment of silence. “How would you succinctly describe your feelings for me?”

There was an undeniable expression of vulnerability on Hannibal’s face; he looked as he had the night he’d dragged the linoleum knife across Will’s belly. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I love you.”

Hannibal’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he thickly swallowed, the corners of his lips turned up for the briefest of moments before returning to their neutral state. Will pushed a flat hand against Hannibal’s sternum as he kissed his hairline.

He feel asleep to the sound of his name.

**

The next morning, Will again woke in an empty bed. He swung his feet onto the floor and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. Hannibal was standing barefoot in a pair of long, cotton pajama pants.

“Good morning, Will,” he said as he pulled two mugs down from the cabinet. 

Will stepped towards him, feeling suddenly exposed in his boxers and t-shirt. Hannibal smiled gently as he approached.

“Would you care for anything particular for breakfast?”

Without halting his stride, Will pushed his body against him and pressed their mouths together. Hannibal’s lips were soft and yielding against his, moving carefully as his hands came to rest on Will’s hips. Will took his bottom lip between both of his and sucked gently as he pulled them apart, opening his eyes to wait.

There was a snap of electricity.

Hannibal’s hands moved from his hips to the sides of his face, pushing their lips back together with a force that bordered on violence. Exhaling loudly from his nose, Will grabbed at Hannibal’s wrists and pulled himself closer. The smooth touch of Hannibal’s lips was still there but it was now punctuated with teeth and tongue. Hannibal dropped his hands and slid one behind Will’s head and the other around his waist. Will gasped in surprise as Hannibal flung them around, shoving Will’s back into the wall of the kitchen, shielding his head from the impact with the back of his hand.

The sound of glass shattering filled the room as the nearby mirror bounced off its hanger and went screaming to the floor.

Hannibal was pressed against him, grinding their hips together as a hand massaged the skin under his throat. Their chests were heaving and fighting for air as Will pulled a leg up and around Hannibal’s calf as he broke for oxygen. Inhaling frantically, he pulled harder with his leg as Hannibal’s lips dropped down to his neck, his hands roughly pulling at the collar of his t shirt before reaching down to the hem and pulling it over his head.

Soon after the cloth hit the floor Hannibal dragged them down as well, pushing Will’s bare legs open and coming to lay between them. Will’s cock was hard and still tacky with dried semen as Hannibal’s hands dropped to his hips. He moved from between Will’s legs to pull his boxers down and away, sliding his own pants off as well, before returning his hands to Will’s hips and swallowing him down.

“ _God_ , fuck,” Will groaned, digging his fingers into the floor.

Hannibal’s tongue worked around him, his cheeks hollowing as his lips worked up and down. His dick was wet with saliva as Hannibal’s hand moved to grab him from the base, working up and down in tandem with his mouth. There was a frenzy building in Will’s gut with a disturbing speed and he found himself wondering if his body would always react this quickly with Hannibal.

There was an ascension - a flurry - and then a quick and deep release down Hannibal’s throat, the older man’s muscles working everything out of him as he swallowed. 

As Will’s heart hammered against his chest, Hannibal crawled up his body and kissed him. Will tasted himself there as he pulled back and pushed two fingers into Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal sucked them in deeply - greedily - as Will pushed down against his tongue. Pulling away, he moved his slick fingers between Hannibal’s legs and grabbed his cock with his hand.

It wasn’t so strange after all, Will thought.

Hannibal’s arms buckled above him and he leaned down to bury his face in Will’s neck, keeping his hips elevated as Will slowly worked him.

“Will, Will, Will.”

It was an oddly gratifying moment when Will felt Hannibal spill into his hand, his muscles shaking as he dropped to his elbows and panted into his ear; to know that Hannibal’s body reacted to him with the same immediate urgency. Will pulled his hand away and draped it across Hannibal’s back, streaking his skin.

They laid there a moment, their hearts fighting each other, before Will spoke. 

“My legs are asleep”

Hannibal immediately lifted up onto his hands, flat on either side of Will’s head. 

“Come back to bed with me.”

He stood, naked, and lowered a hand down to help Will to his feet. They walked back toward the bedroom, ignoring the broken glass and cooling coffee.

“We should shower,” Will said.

“Later.”

Climbing back under the sheets, Hannibal waited for Will to join him. As he settled onto his back, Hannibal moved closer and rested his cheek against Will’s chest, inhaling deeply. They dozed unmoving. When Will woke several hours later, Hannibal was still pressed into him, his ear above the _thump_ of his heart. 


	12. Eat the Rude

The sun had just started its descent toward the horizon, casting streaks of orange and deep pink across the sky. The water of the large blue lake was growing dark, fading with the light. Will slowly pulled himself up from where he had been laying on his back, the blanket under him bunching at his heels.

“We should get going soon,” he said.

Hannibal was sitting upright next to him, his back leaning into the tree behind them, one leg out long and the other drawn up at the knee. He glanced down at him from behind his paperback.

“Yes?”

A muffled rumbling of paws came and went past their feet as Shelley and Harper slowed their chase and collapsed on the grass, tongues hanging long and wet from their mouths.

“Yeah,” Will said as he stretched. “They’re wiped and I’ll need to give them a bath when we get home. I’ll get them ready and get the stuff back to the car. Did you wanna throw the pits and things out? ”

“Of course.”

Hannibal reached into his pocket and handed Will the keys to the car as he came to his feet, watching but remaining silent as Will seemed to fumble in retaining his balance. Rising as well, Hannibal began to gather the plates and cutlery they’d brought with them back into the large wicker basket before he stepped off the blanket and shook it, folding it.

Will ran his hands through the dogs fur briskly, brushing away surface dirt before he beckoned for them to follow him to the car. Harper moved to follow but the younger dog stayed put, panting on the grass.

“Shelley, come,” Will said with a whistle.

When she again made no attempt to move Will sighed.

“I need to spend more time working with her,” he said. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get her leash. Come on, Harp.”

Hannibal nodded as he walked towards the car, finishing gathering the pits and stems from the fruit they’d brought in a small towel in his hand. Looking down at Shelley and finding her having rolled to her side, he stepped away and walked towards the small public trashcan near the dirt road. As he approached it, he picked up the sound of foreign footsteps and turned his head in its direction. A middle aged man was stumbling down the isolated road, no doubt from the small pub a short walk away. Hannibal could smell the beer on his person before he got within earshot. He emptied the contents of the hand-towel into the trashcan before he folded it into a small square and placed it in his pocket.

“ _Beautiful, beautiful, evening my friend_!” came an off-key singsong in Spanish.

Hannibal lowered his eyes before he turned to face him. The smell of beer on his breath was overpowering.

“ _Good evening_ ,” Hannibal answered back in Spanish.

“ _Listen, my friend. Listen. I need your help._ ”

Hannibal smiled politely but stepped back as the man moved to touch his shoulder.

“ _You . . you are from here, yes? You know this area? I am visiting. I am so, so far from home and so very lonely._ ”

The man shifted his weight from foot to foot as he spoke, his hand coming to palm at his cock through his pants.

“ _Do you know where I can find some women, my friend?_ ” he slurred as he leaned in closer. “ _I am not a picky man, you know? I’m not. But I need a woman. Tonight. I need one. You know what that’s like don’t you? When you would kill for some fucking pussy_?”

Hannibal’s jaw clenched.

“ _I’m afraid I cannot help you_ ,” he said.

The man produced an exaggerated sigh as he leaned in again and successfully made contact with Hannibal’s shoulder, firmly gripping the linen of his shirt. The man’s eyes looked past him though, moving slowly across the open ground near the lake.

“ _Aye, well maybe this is my lucky night._ ” 

Hannibal didn’t need to shift his gaze to know that the man was staring at Will who’d returned from the car with Shelley’s leash to collect her. He pushed away from Hannibal and turned his body to face the water.

Hannibal’s eyes didn’t leave him.

“ _That one is pretty enough,_ ” the man leered.

Near the water, Will grabbed their blanket and basket and clipped Shelley’s leash to her collar, tugging until she stood. The dog shook the dirt and broken blades of grass off her body and followed him back to the car.

“ _And in the dark it doesn’t really matter does it?”_

His words were punctuated with small belches. His hand returned to his crotch and his tongue slithered out of his mouth and traced the shape of his bottom lip.

“ _God, I’d fuck him right here. Do you think he’d let me_?”

Hannibal’s face was like stone, his body rigid. In the distance he could hear Will closing the door to the car.

 _“What do you think, my friend? Huh? With an ass like that I’m sure he would. He’d probably fucking love it._ ”

The man turned to look at Hannibal then, finding the gaze that hadn’t left his face since he’d started talking.

“ _I think you should be concerned about getting home_ ,” Hannibal said carefully. “ _You’re starting to look quite unwell. I’m sure that young man wouldn’t find that appealing._ ”

“ _Aye, you’re probably right,”_ he agreed loudly _. “Pretty thing like that? Probably needs to be pampered. Not worth the effort._ ”

Hannibal’s eyes scanned his body, checking the shape of his pockets.

“ _Where are you staying_?”

“ _Oh, this old hotel up the road. The . . . Meadow or something._ ”

“ _Ah, The Garden? I’m afraid you’re walking in the wrong direction,_ ” Hannibal lied _. “You’ll want to turn around._ ”

As the man turned, Hannibal pushed a foot in front of his, causing him to lurch forward. He laughed as Hannibal caught him, not noticing the weight of his wallet leaving his pocket.

“ _Careful,_ ” Hannibal said. “ _You should start back now._ ”

“ _Yes, yes, you are right, my friend. My good friend - you are always right._ ”

Pulling a song from his chest, the man sauntered back down the road in the direction from which he came. Hannibal placed the man’s wallet in his pocket and turned towards the car, finding Will leaning against the passenger side door.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing at all,” Hannibal answered. “A lost and weary traveler.”

Will pushed himself off the car door and screwed his eyes shut.

“Will?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I just got lightheaded for a second.”

Hannibal stepped close to him and placed a hand on his forehead. Will grabbed his wrist and pushed him away.

“I told you, I’m not getting sick. I don’t care what your bloodhound nose says. I’m just tired.”

Without saying anything else, Hannibal reached around him and opened the passenger side door, closing it after Will climbed into the seat. He rolled down the windows in the back for the dogs to gleefully hang their heads out as they began the drive home.

**

The next morning, Hannibal woke with a shivering and sweaty body curled into him. Pulling the covers back he placed a hand on Will’s forehead and lifted his eyebrows before moving out of bed and pulling the covers back up. 

Making his way downstairs he opened the front door for the dogs and retrieved the stolen wallet that he’d placed in a drawer in the kitchen. Pulling out his tablet he looked up the number to _El Jardín_ as he read the information on the man’s ID card. A woman picked up and pleasantly transferred him to his room.

It rang four times before he picked up.

“ _Yeah - yes? Hello_?”

“ _Señor Alonso_?”

“ _Yes_?”

“ _I apologize for calling on you at such an hour but I believe I have your wallet._ ”

Hannibal listened to the man pat down the pants he’d undoubtedly slept in and mumble as he turned his body around the room.

“ _Oh shit, oh - thank you. I hadn’t even realized I’d lost it._ ”

“ _Of course_ ,” Hannibal responded. “ _I am eager to return it to you but I’m afraid that I am quite pressed for time and on my way out of town. There is a small park near your hotel, by a lake. Would it be possible for you to meet me there in an hour?”_

 _“Oh, um, yeah - yeah_ ,” the man said after a slight hesitation, clearly suffering from a massive headache. “ _That would be great. Thank you._ ”

“ _Wonderful. I will see you shortly._ ”

**

Two days later, Hannibal lifted the lid to the crock pot and inspected its contents: garlic, ginger, spinach and kale simmering in bone broth. He deeply inhaled over the pot before he ladled some into a bowl and placed it on a wooden tray along with a tall glass of coconut water and made his way up the stairs with the tray in his arms.

Stepping into the bedroom he moved around the dogs who were sleeping on the floor by Will and placed the tray on his nightstand. 

“Will,” he said gently. 

The younger man stirred and opened his eyes.

“I’ve brought you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That may be. But you haven’t eaten in close to 48-hours,” Hannibal said. “ You do not need to eat it all, but I must insist that you eat some.”

Will rolled his shoulders as he shifted into an upright position, groaning at the all-over soreness in his body. Once he’d settled, Hannibal placed the tray across his lap.

“Can’t you just get me some Gatorade or something?”

“Are you still feeling delirious?”

Will laughed.

“There is coconut water here,” Hannibal said as he motioned to the glass. “It will help restore your electrolytes. And a gentle soup as well.”

Will took a small sip of the coconut water.

“Thank you.”

Hannibal watched as he moved the spoon around the bowl before bringing some to his lips, moaning softly as he swallowed it. He concentrated on the flavor before he lowered the spoon back into the bowl.

“When did you get this?”

“Two days ago.”

Will nodded, having no recollection of the past two days.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I had no wish to needlessly concern you.”

Will took another sip.

“Was it the man from the park?”

“It was.”

“What did he say?”

Hannibal remembered the feel of his hands around the man’s neck as he’d straddled him near the water. The veins in his eyes had burst as he’d leaned in close to his ear.

 _You should be pleased,_ he’d whispered.

The man had pushed a final, strangled gasp of breath against Hannibal’s cheek.

_You’ll be inside him just as you’d desired._

“Nothing I’d care to repeat.”

Will considered pressing him for a moment but ultimately didn’t, opting instead to take in another mouthful. Hannibal watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed, envisioning his body taking in nourishment and healing.

He leaned in close, pressing his nose to the space between Will’s ear and shoulder and inhaled. 

“Your fever will break by morning.” 


	13. Home

“I’m going to leave soon. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Hannibal looked up from the wet dishes he was drying. Will’s face was vibrant, his body brimming with barely contained excitement.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t think that I would have much to contribute in the decision.”

After weeks of gentle hints and a few of days of direct asking, Hannibal had relented in Will’s desire to visit the local animal shelter with the intention of adopting. They had been settled in their home for over a year now, comfortable in their isolation from the nearest town which was several miles away. When Hannibal had first taken Will to the rundown farmhouse he intended to purchase for them, Will had immediately made a mental note of the size of the grounds, unable to stop himself from imagining his dearly missed pack in Wolf Trap running around.

Hannibal knew it was only a matter of time before a dog joined them in their new life. And while he wasn’t keen on the idea of fur and slobber being a constant presence, he had long ago accepted that a life with Will Graham was a life that included four-legged companions.

“Maybe not,” Will responded. “But do you really not have an opinion on breed or temperament or anything?”

“No,” Hannibal said as he dried the last of the dishes and put them away. “I trust your judgement.”

“Okay,” Will said after a moment, grabbing the keys from the counter. “I’ll be back in a while.”

As he turned to leave, Hannibal spoke.

“You will be getting _one_ , correct?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Hannibal went with him.

**

Hannibal could smell the shelter well before they walked through its doors; a musk of saliva, fur, and cheap meat ground into food. The sound of barking and clicking nails echoed off the walls as they approached the friendly woman at the front desk. When Will greeted her and explained their intentions in broken Spanish, she switched to English and took them both back to the kennels.

Will fell to his knees in front of the first cage and held out his hand to the excited black dog who enthusiastically approached him.

“All of our dogs are so sweet,” the woman said eagerly.

Will read the name on the dog’s kennel: Chico.

“How long have you had him? Where did he come from?”

Hannibal left them to converse as he wandered around, his eyes falling on a collection of photos of people who’d adopted from the shelter and later sent in pictures of the dogs with their new families. There were pamphlets advertising nearby veterinary and training services as well as boxes for donations of toys and bedding - and new ones to purchase - alongside cans of dog food. 

Hannibal quickly scanned the labels, looking at the ingredients, knowing Will would be making his own.

On a tiny bed that had been attached to a window sill by the front door slept a ginger cat. He approached it and softly scratched the top of its head, moving down to the back of its neck as the cat purred and stretched itself awake. 

“Hey.”

He turned and found Will behind him, his eyes dancing.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning with his hand.

Hannibal left the cat and followed Will back into the hall of kennels, walking half way down and stopping in front of one with two yellow dogs inside. One appeared to be full grown but the other was still very much a puppy. The names on the cage read “Big Yellow” and “Little Yellow”.

“What do you think?” Will asked, his voice nearly vibrating from excitement.

“I think that looks like _two_ dogs.”

Will grinned and looked to the woman who’d been introducing him to the residents.

“Can you give us a moment?”

“Of course,” she said as she walked away, flashing Hannibal a smile. “Take all the time you need”.

The sound of her heels clicking on the concrete floor was barely audible over the barking.

“They have to come together,” Will began to explain. “They found the big one wandering around a town a long way from here, disoriented and nervous. She was really agitated and scared when they brought her here - wouldn’t socialize with the other dogs at all. Until someone surrendered the little one because people have no idea how challenging puppies can be -”

“That doesn’t bolster your argument, Will.”

“Puppies aren’t a problem, Hannibal. They just need time and dedication, which _I_ can give them. You wouldn’t have to do anything.”

Will reached in through the chainlink and smiled as both dogs licked his hand.

“Anyway, they took to each other immediately so the shelter won’t adopt them out separately. Not everyone has the time for a puppy. And not everyone is going to take a puppy with an older dog and vice versa. But we can.”

Hannibal watched Will lean closer to them, his entire face alight with joy. Kneeling down, Hannibal stuck a single finger in through the cage, which both dogs immediately sniffed and then licked. 

“They cannot sleep in the bed.”

Will smiled brightly.

“They won’t.”

Pulling his hand away, Hannibal nodded and stood as Will walked quickly down the hall and towards the front desk. He looked at the two dogs in the cage, both staring up at him with adoration; their tails sweeping back and forth. As Will and the woman returned with two loop leashes, the dogs began to quake with excitement.  
  
“You girls ready to go home?” the woman asked excitedly in Spanish as she opened the cage.

The dogs twisted and twirled their bodies as she and Will attached the temporary leashes to their necks. They both jumped up on their hind legs in order to rest their front paws on Will, the younger one only reaching past his knees.

“Hello! Are you ready?” Will asked as he enthusiastically rubbed their heads.

Hannibal followed behind as they made their way up to the front. Will looked to him with a questioning eye as he reached out with both leashes. Taking them, Hannibal stepped back when the dogs moved to jump on him but rubbed their ears with a single hand in compromise. Will selected two beds, two pairs of bowls, leashes, collars, and toys from the wall.

He picked up a single can of dog food and read the label. 

“Do you mind if we stop at the market on the way home so I can get stuff to make their food?”

Hannibal backed up again as the puppy jumped at him.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

Sensing that he was eager for Will to take the dogs back, he returned the can to the shelf, gathered the rest of his selections, and took them to front desk. As he reached for the leashes his hands lingered on Hannibal’s and squeezed.

“Thank you.”

Hannibal nodded and turned to the woman behind the desk, reaching for his wallet. In Spanish she went over the items Will had selected and then asked if he would like to make a donation. Nodding, he reached inside his wallet and produced several bills. The woman’s eyes widened as he handed it to her.

“ _Oh my god, sir - are, are you sure_?”

“ _Yes, please_.”

Will looked at her; there were tears in her eyes. 

“ _Thank you! Thank you both so much.”_

Will turned to Hannibal, not knowing what he had done but knowing enough Spanish to make an educated guess.

The woman waved goodbye to the dogs as they left. 

**

Later that evening, Will was on the floor engaged in a game of tug-of-war with the puppy as Hannibal sat on the couch with a glass of wine.

“What do you think about names?”

“I have no great opinion on the matter.”

Will released his grip on the rope toy and laughed as the puppy stumbled backwards with it in her mouth. As he reached for the rope again, she jerked her head away giving him a high pitched, playful growl.

“I named all my dogs after famous icons before,” Will said as he made a halfhearted grab for the toy. “You know, Winston Churchill. Buster Keaton.” 

Hannibal nodded.

“What do you think about naming them after authors?” he suggested. “Zora? Brontë?”

Hannibal leaned back into the couch, taking a sip of the red wine in his hand.

“I quite enjoyed ‘Frankenstein’ in my youth,” he offered.

“Yeah?” Will said, turning to look at him. “Mary? Or Shelley.”

“Shelley.”

Will lunged forward and grabbed the puppy, laughing as she wiggled in his lap and licked at his face.

“Shelley’s good,” he said.

“And the other?”

Releasing her, Will watched her hop over to the older dog who had been laying down and observing, much as Hannibal had.

“Well, if we’re going with books that left an impact on us growing up, I’d say ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’.”

Moving across the floor on his knees, Will came to sit near the dog. Gently rubbing behind her ears before running his hands down her back. Hannibal watched the strands of yellow fur billow into the air around them.

“Harper,” he said. 

**

Over the next couple of weeks, Will worked extensively with the dogs. Harper was quick to learn but Shelley required much more attention. Teaching her not to jump up was a challenge though she seemed to understand that Will tolerated it more than Hannibal did. The older man was largely hands-off with their training though he would often sit on the porch in the evenings and watch Will work with them. 

Though Will had adjusted to their new life together more quickly than Hannibal could have hoped for, the dogs seemed to bring new meaning and contentment for him. He smiled and laughed in a way Hannibal had rarely seen before.

Every week Will made a batch of food consisting of basmati rice, eggs, chicken, and various vegetables. He kept an ever-present watchful eye on Shelley, quickly moving to take her outside when she seemed like she needed to do her business and enthusiastically praised her when she did. He took them on long walks in the late afternoon to tire them out.

Hannibal warmed to them. He became more accepting of a head in his lap or a whine for attention. He purchased additional beds for them which he allowed inside the bedroom though he held fast in his request that they not be allowed on the bed and most other furniture in the house. He began to join Will on their evening walks.

As he got out the shower one night, Will was surprised to discover that he smelled nothing cooking. Hannibal was generally very precise about what time they ate dinner and not smelling or hearing anything from the kitchen at this hour was rare. As he walked down the stairs Will looked into the kitchen and, indeed, found it to be completely empty and dark. Turning, he moved towards the main room and spied Hannibal’s bare feet resting on the arm of the couch.

As Will walked around he found Hannibal asleep on his back with Harper on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and Shelley sprawled on her belly on his chest. Will smiled as he watched her tiny body move with the rise and fall of Hannibal’s breathing before he reached out and grabbed one of his bare toes.

Hannibal’s eyes opened immediately.

“Hey,” Will said. “Did you want me to start dinner?”

Hannibal sighed and glanced at his watch before he returned his hand to Shelley’s backside.

“No,” he said. “That’s quite all right.”

He gently pulled his body upright, bringing both hands up to pull the puppy closer towards him as he came to sit. Shelley startled but quickly settled back down, rubbing her nose under his chin.

“She loves you, you know,” Will said as he came to sit next to him, petting Harper at his feet as he did so. “They both do.”

“Yes, it seems that way,” he said. “And I must confess that I’ve grown . . . _attached_ to them as well.”

Will leaned in and rubbed the soft fur behind Shelley’s ears.

“You sound surprised.”

“I never had animals when I was growing up,” Hannibal said. “There were some stray cats that would gather outside the orphanage and the headmaster at my boarding school kept an insufferably loud parrot in his office. I have never spent much time with animals - pets -in any significant way.”

Harper leaned in and nosed at the puppy until she fully woke. Hannibal lowered her to the floor and watched as they ran to a stuffed toy in the shape of turtle, beginning to bounce around it.

“There’s a reason I love dogs,” Will said as he scooted closer and came to rest his head against Hannibal’s shoulder. “They don’t have any hidden emotions or ulterior motives. They want to receive love and give love. They’re simple, pure. They don’t have any secrets.”

In front of them, Shelley tackled the bigger dog who fell to her side.

Hannibal leaned down and kissed the top of Will’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy International Dog Day!


	14. Majesty of Becoming

The air between them was hot, flexing with a steady rhythm. Hannibal’s palms were flat on either side of Will’s head, fingertips curled into the mattress. Under his weight, Will pushed up and nosed along the side of his jaw until Hannibal offered his mouth. As they parted, Will’s hands gripped the sides of Hannibal’s neck once - hard - before falling back on the bed, Hannibal’s hands coming to pin his wrists there.

Their pace became more insistent, almost frenzied. Will’s toes curled by Hannibal’s ear as he pushed in harder and faster. Then, just as quickly as they’d built their slick cadence, it stopped. 

Will exhaled loudly, his breath coming back to him, as he leaned up and peppered Hannibal’s neck and jawline with kisses.

“Why’d you stop,” he whined softly, pushing the back of his knee into Hannibal’s shoulder. 

Hannibal remained still, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side slightly. His grip on Will’s wrists loosened.

“Hann-”

Will was cut off by Hannibal’s fingers on his lips. Slowly, the older man leaned down, pushing back in deep as he spoke softly into Will’s ear.

“There’s someone downstairs.”

Will exhaled steeply as Hannibal moved his fingers away and up to his ankle. He kissed the bone there as he lowered Will’s leg to the sheets and then came to stand by the side of the bed. As Hannibal pulled on a pair of long cotton pants, Will moved to sit upright and listened.

He heard crickets chirp outside, the wind at their window, a clock ticking in the hall, and a careless foot tap the couch downstairs.

Coming to stand Will grabbed his discarded jeans from the floor and slid them on before pulling a plain white shirt over his head. Hannibal had grabbed a harpy knife from his bedside table and was standing at the bedroom door, listening. With soft, careful steps, Will grabbed his gun from under a pile of folded clothes in a dresser drawer and came to stand next to him. They were both silent for a moment before a quiet gasp of realization broke from Will’s mouth. His hand reached to pull the door more fully open.

Hannibal grabbed his wrist and was met with a fevered look in Will’s eyes.

The dogs weren’t barking.

Placing a firm hand on his chest, Hannibal nodded and moved in front of him, slowly making his way through the dark hall and down the stairs.As he got to the last step, he stopped, cocking his head to peer into the kitchen and then the living room. He looked back at Will and told him, without vocalizing or motioning, to quietly come down. Will’s bare feet made no sound as he descended, stopping at Hannibal’s side and peering into the kitchen.

As his head turned, Hannibal grabbed his arm and pushed his face against his ear in a wordless plea for silence.

Shelley and Harper were both laying on the floor, their heads lolling from side to side as they struggled to stand, repeatedly failing under weak legs.

Will inhaled a shaky breath as his body went rigid, fighting the nearly overpowering urge to run to them. He pushed against Hannibal instead who used the grip on his arm to turn him around slowly. He motioned with his head in the direction of the dining room. With tears welling in his eyes, Will drew his gun up and moved soundlessly through the living room until he found him.

The intruder was on his knees at the base of one of their bookcases, his fingers pulling at the volumes one by one until he found what he must have known would be there. His hands wrapped around the edges of the small safe as he considered its weight, not noticing the man behind him until the muzzle of the gun was pressed into the back of his head.

“What the fuck did you do to my dogs?”

The man turned violently towards him and blindly lunged. Will easily grabbed him around his shoulders and flung him on his back, his knees coming to rest on either side of the man’s hips. He pushed the gun between his eyes.

The man went still under him.

“ _No, no, please,”_ he stammered in Spanish. “ _Please, I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I’ll leave.”_

 _“My dogs,”_ Will repeated. “ _What happened to the dogs?”_

Though Will’s Spanish had improved since they’d settled in Argentina, he was having a difficult time understanding him. As the man continued to ramble, Hannibal came and knelt beside them.

“ _What have you done to the dogs,_ ” he asked. “ _I would strongly encourage you to tell the truth.”_

 _“Nothing! Nothing! A sedative,”_ he explained as he stared down the barrel of Will’s gun. _“My pocket, please! I’ll show you!”_

Will watched as Hannibal reached into the man’s pocket and pulled out a plastic bag containing several small chunks of meat. Taking one in his fingers he pulled at it until he found the pill inside. Without another word he was on his feet and headed towards his office.

“ _Get up,_ ” Will said as he came to stand as well, his gun never leaving the man’s eyeline. “ _Now._ _Get up!_ ”

He could hear Hannibal rummaging through his supply cabinet. He returned shortly with a small bag and moved past them and into the kitchen. Will pushed the man in front of them as they followed, forcing him down to his knees as they reached the dogs and coming to stand behind him. He pressed the gun against the back of his skull.

In the kitchen, Hannibal was on his knees as well, his harpy knife deposited on the counter. Even in their delirious state the dogs seemed to know who he was and struggled to get close to him. Opening the bag, Hannibal pulled out a needle-less syringe and filled it with activated charcoal, moving to Shelley first and pushing it beyond the end of her jaw and down her throat before repeating the process with Harper.

“ _Mister, please,_ ” the man begged. “ _I’m sorry, just-_ ”

“ _I said shut up,_ ” Will responded.

They all waited.

Hannibal moved between the dogs and massaged their necks until they began to rhythmically convulse from nose to tail. He wrapped an arm under both dogs and pulled them upright, holding them steady against him as they vomited onto the floor. Will felt his body relax though the arm that held the gun did not. Hannibal continued to hold them, his fingers rubbing into their fur as he did before he stopped. He released them and they gave him weak wags of their tails before laying back down.

Hannibal looked up at Will and nodded once.

Coming to stand, Hannibal rinsed his hands in the sink.

“ _I told you, they’re fine!_ ” the man said. “ _I wouldn’t hurt any animal. And I wasn’t going to hurt you guys! I swear._ ”

“What do you wish to do, Will?” Hannibal asked coming to stand next to him, behind the man who remained on his knees facing the kitchen.

The emotion from before was gone. Will’s mind was collected and calm.

“I want to kill him.”

The lack of reaction from the man indicated that he didn’t understand English. Hannibal stepped closer. 

“How?”

Will’s finger tightened on the trigger of the gun. 

“Do you want anything particular from him?”

Hannibal moved to stand behind him, his hands resting lightly on his hips.

“I would enjoy preparing his heart for you. The liver as well, if I may.”

He placed a soft kiss on Will’s neck as the younger man’s eyes drifted beyond the man at his feet and to the dogs who were still weak and laying on their sides amidst pools of charcoal black vomit.

“I want to open his throat.”

Hannibal’s hands tightened on his hips. In their time together following the their into the ocean, Will had not yet taken the initiative in a kill. They’d hunted together - stalking and luring - but Hannibal had always lunged first; it was always his blade that first broke through flesh.

“What do you want from me, Will?”

Will swallowed and leaned back against him.

“Bring me what I need,” he said.

Hannibal kissed his neck again. 

“Yes.”

Will stayed focused and unmoving behind the man as Hannibal left him, returning after a moment with a bag that jingled slightly with the instruments inside. As he placed the bag at Will’s feet, Hannibal handed him a loop of rope and a long, thick strand of black cloth.

Will looked at it - considering - and then took it with soft gratitude.

Hannibal walked into the kitchen, stopping to observe the wagging tails on the floor before he grabbed his harpy knife from the counter. The weight of Will’s gun _clunked_ on the table at his side as he bound the man’s hands behind him with the rope.

 _“No, no, no,_ ” the man was sobbing. “ _Please, please - I’m sorry._ ”

Securing the ropes, Will stepped around the man and pushed the cloth between his teeth, tying it behind his head to muffle his words. He stared into the man’s wet eyes as Hannibal reached around him to hand him the knife.

“Do you want it to be quick?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal took him by the hand and moved them both behind the man, who was pushing wet, choked sobs from his throat into the cloth; his muffled pleas sounded like the prayers of monks. Hannibal slowly fell to his knees, bringing Will with him, and reached for the hand that gripped the knife. With his own hand clutched over Will’s, Hannibal guided him around the man’s quivering chest until the blade came to rest under his ear, above his jugular.

It was suddenly very familiar. 

Hannibal’s curved arm. A sharp blade on a soft, helpless throat. A man unable to stop the inevitable.

“Follow the curve of his neck,” Hannibal whispered into his ear. “Push in firmly and draw fast.”

With that, Hannibal released him and listened to the man’s skin split as Will drew the knife down and around his neck. A crimson spray of blood followed Will’s pattern in the air in front of them. The man gasped and gargled as his muscles began to give. Will sat back on his heels as the man fell forward.

Hannibal took the hand that held the knife and gently pried it from Will’s grasp, placing it on the floor beside where they both knelt. The collapsed man was taking in his last breaths of coppery air. Will watched his side slowly rise and fall as Hannibal’s lips found his neck again.

The rise and fall stopped.

“How do you feel?”

Will looked down at the blood that stained his fingers. In his chest, his heart beat calmly.

“Righteous.”

Hannibal helped him dismember the body, slicing and sawing through skin, tendon, muscle, and bone. He cracked the cage of his ribs and guided Will’s hands through the wet, soft insides until his fingers grabbed the muscle of his heart and pulled it free. Will looked at it in his red, slicked hands and squeezed. To hold the very crux of a body’s life in his palms sent a surge of power through him.

Hannibal took the heart and set it aside, returning to Will’s blood covered hands. He kissed them, his lips wrapping around a knuckle, tongue darting out to taste the raw essence of a spilled life.

Will smelled like life and death, sweat and sex.

Hannibal took his hands again and guided them back in the warm cavity. Together they found the liver and pulled it free. The cooling insides made a depraved squishing sound. Will’s face paled, obvious even through the red stains.

“Are you all right?”

Will ran his thumbs over the smooth organ in his hands. 

“It’s a lot.”

Hannibal took the liver from him and placed it aside with the heart.

“When I opened my first man I felt the universe reveal itself to me,” he said softly. “In one great _rush_ , I understood everything.”

Will looked at him as Hannibal placed a bloody hand on his cheek.

“What has this man told you, Will?” he asked. “What do you see?”

Will pushed their foreheads together, feeling slightly dizzy. He leaned his cheek into Hannibal’s hand.

“Dinner.”


	15. Insolent Noise

Hannibal stepped down into the dimly lit stairwell, loose gravel and stone clacking together with the careful shuffle of his feet. The concrete walls bounced the sound of his steps between his ears as he descended deeper, down and down and down until nearly all light was gone. Ahead of him through the narrow hall, orange light glowed from underneath a door.

As he neared, he concentrated on the slight weight of the knife in his pocket.

He paused just outside the door - waiting, listening - before he slowly pushed it open.

“Dr. Lecter. It’s a honor to finally meet you.”

The man stood in the middle of the barren, grey room. He was tall, his slender body encased in firm muscle. No more than 35 years of age. His dark hair was slicked back, his deep set eyes hidden by the shadows. 

“Thank you for coming.”

Hannibal stepped just inside the room, his eyes moving over the enclosed space. The walls were crumbling, stained with water damage. The yellow light above the man’s head was the only feature present.

“You presented quite the irrefutable invitation.”

He smiled.

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said. “I know it wasn’t the most polite action on my part but I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“I am here,” Hannibal said. “Now tell me, where is he?”

“Close,” the man grinned. 

Hannibal stepped fully into the room.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” he said.

“Nor am I,” the man responded. “In fact, what I propose is rather straight forward.”

He was smiling again, clearly pleased with himself.

“I’ve followed your career with such interest,” he said, his voice vibrating with excitement. “ _The Chesapeake Ripper_. I never did think that that moniker did you any justice though. But I suppose it’s the least of the offensive things said about you.”

His voice began to waver with hints of excitement and trepidation.

“My name’s Jackson,” he said. His arm twitched as if he meant to extend his hand in offering before changing his mind. “I know you don’t know me, but we’re just alike. The two of us.”

“Are we?” Hannibal responded dryly.

“Oh yes,” he answered. “We see what others cannot - what they will not. We appreciate and understand the importance of art and beauty; of taking the ugly and transforming it into something beautiful.”

His eyes were wide, his pulse quick.

“I’d been looking for you for so long,” he continued. “I knew - I _knew_ \- they were lying about you being dead. I knew that you had gone into hiding and that if I was patient you’d reveal yourself - your gift - to me. I’m the only one who could have found you. Because I _understand_ you.”

He placed a hand in his pocket.

“Well, mostly,” he continued, his voice dropping. “I was . . . surprised when I saw you with _him_.”

Disdain.

“I always thought you’d killed him the night you went missing and that that Freddie Lounds article about you two finding each other in Europe was bullshit. I thought ‘how could this great man be drawn to such an insignificant nothing’?”

Jackson’s fingers twitched in his pocket.

“Then I figured it out: you’re beholden to him somehow. You’re a righteous man. I know that’s it. So I’ve released you.”

Hannibal felt his jaw tighten.

“So you’ve said.”

Jackson studied his face, cocking his head slightly and flashing a small, placating smile.

“Don’t be cross,” he said. “I know there will be a period of adjustment. But in the end you’ll thank me. I’ll be a better match for you than he ever was.”

Hannibal watched Jackson’s face light up, nearly swooning. He knew that this man had been following them; he’d known for some time. After a few sightings he’d brought it to Will’s attention and the two of them had decided to hunt him down. The trap was set - plans ready to get underway - and then Will didn’t come home. Hannibal had waited up all night, sitting in the living room with the dogs at his feet, until finally he received a text from Will’s phone.

_He failed you. He’ll fail you again. I’ll release you._

A second text followed with a time and location.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“You’ve given me no cause,” Hannibal said. “You sent me a message from a phone.”

“From _his_ phone.”

“And yet he is not here.”

Jackson lowered his eyes, smiling again gently as if he were explaining to a child.

“I told you I’m worthy of you,” he whispered.

He pulled his closed fist from his pocket. Lifting his arm quickly he tossed the contents of his hand to Hannibal who caught it without breaking their gaze.

The moment it hit his skin Hannibal knew what it was. 

Still, he glanced downwards and unfurled his fingers. The thick, obsidian ring in his palm was stained with dried blood. Despite his intentions, Hannibal felt his throat tighten. He thickly swallowed.

“It was _so easy_ ,” Jackson said softly. “He never saw me coming. I dragged him off a public street with _no one_ noticing. I brought him here and have set you free.”

Hannibal moved the ring around in his hand, feeling it bump against the matching one on his own finger.

“Where is he?’

“Which part?”

Hannibal clenched his fist around the ring tightly before he placed it in his pocket, feeling for the handle of his knife. Jackson was coming closer, his body strikingly pliant.

“Do you want me to tell you how I killed him?” he whispered. “How I took him apart? To his credit, he didn’t beg. But he did scream beautifully. Shall I bring you his hands?”

There was a flash of Hannibal’s hand before Jackson fell forward, legs bent. He clasped at his throat and gasped for air as his knees hit the floor. Before his upper body connected with the ground Hannibal drew his knee up hard into Jackson’s nose.

A crack bounced off the walls.

Jackson coughed and struggled for air as his back hit the ground. Pulling the knife from his pocket, Hannibal forced him onto his stomach and kneeled above his hips, facing his feet. He roughly pulled up the hem of his pants before he slashed the blade across each of his Achilles tendons.

Jackson whimpered like a bludgeoned animal as he choked on a dry scream.

Coming to his feet, Hannibal kicked him back over until he lay flat on his backside. Jackson looked up at him in disbelief.

“I’m going to kill you,” Hannibal said calmly. “I’m going to keep you here and pull you apart piece by piece. I’ll feed you slices of yourself to keep you alive. If you tell me where he is now - without hesitation - I will consider allowing you to die after a few weeks.”

Tears rolled down Jackson’s face as he gulped down small intakes of air.

“If you hesitate, I will keep you alive for months.”

Jackson screwed his eyes shut as his trembling hand reached into his pocket. He produced a key and tossed it on the ground at his side.

Hannibal bent to pick it up.

“Where?”

Jackson slapped the ground hard.

“Down,” he wheezed.

His face tight, Hannibal turned and walked out the door, closing it against the sounds of Jackson’s broken breathing. Straining his eyes in the dark he spied the stairs leading down and gripped the key in his hand as he walked. He made it down two steps before he picked up a familiar scent. Hannibal continued down three more steps before he heard the voice behind him.

“Hannibal?”

His heart slammed against his chest as he turned on his heels and climbed the steps. As he slipped back into the dark hallway, Will materialized at his side. Hannibal could barely make out the features of his face as he strode towards him.

“Hannibal, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He was cut short by the sudden clasp of Hannibal’s hands on either side of his face and the pressure of his mouth against his own. Their kiss was long and unyielding, broken only when Hannibal’s hands dropped to encircle Will’s shoulders causing the younger man to flinch and pull away. 

“I think I broke a rib.”

Hannibal took him in then. His skin and hair were coated in a thin layer of dirt, his right arm cocked at the elbow to instinctively protect his side. His right eye was slightly swollen and colored a deep purple around the socket. Hannibal ran a careful hand through his hair. 

“Are you all right?”

Will nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “He was fast. But thankfully, he’s also really shitty at tying knots and locking doors.”

Hannibal looked down at Will’s hands, his wrists were red and worn from rope; tiny fingerprint sized bruises dotted his forearms. Exhaling through his nose, Hannibal reached into his pocket and produced Will’s ring. He placed it between his teeth and behind closed lips, his tongue working quickly around the band.

He tasted copper. 

After a moment he pulled the ring from his mouth, sucking away excess saliva and reached for Will’s left hand, bringing to him. He slid the ring back on his finger, kissing his scraped knuckle as he did. When he pulled back, Will’s eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. 

“I’m sorry.”

Hannibal cupped the side of his face, his thumb rubbing just under the bruised skin near his eye. 

“For what?”

Will lowered his head.

“I was careless,” he said. “I knew I was getting too close and I should have pulled back as soon as I lost sight of him.”

Hannibal smiled and pushed their foreheads together. After a moment, he nuzzled down the side of Will’s face - inhaling slowly as he did - before he settled in the crook of his neck. 

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

He held him there as Will leaned gingerly into him, his left arm coming around Hannibal’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a long moment before Hannibal pulled back.

“Do you want to do the honors?”

Will looked away for a moment, considering.

“No,” he said. “I want to go home.”

Hannibal reached down and took his left hand again, his thumb rubbing against Will’s ring.

“Will you accompany me first?” he asked. “Will you let me give him to you?”

Will nodded and leaned in to quickly kiss him.

“Yes.”

Smiling, Hannibal took his hand and led him back to the room where Jackson was writhing on the blood stained floor. Crimson flowed from his nose as he looked up at the two of them, his remaining composure shattering.

“Jackson,” Hannibal said. “How fortunate that you are every bit as inept as we took you to be. Now, you will have the opportunity to apologize.”

As Hannibal approached him, Jackson stared beyond him at Will. His eyes burned with regret and rage.

“Have you nothing to say?” Hannibal asked.

Jackson swallowed and looked up at him then, his legs folded underneath him. Hannibal waited, wearing a patient, smug grin.

“Very well.”

Will watched as Hannibal approached the broken man on the floor. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Hannibal clenched his fist and struck him hard in his right eye. Jackson’s head snapped back, his upper body held in place by Hannibal’s grip. He let him hang limp in his grasp, struggling to breathe through his mouth and broken nose, before he shoved him down and rolled him onto his stomach. Hannibal sank down and straddled his lower back, reaching for his right hand and twisting it painfully behind him.

Jackson’s moans and sobs turned to screams as the knife sliced through the skin, tendons, and bone of his wrist. Hannibal worked slowly until the man’s hand was pulled free. Tossing it to the ground, he released his arm and did the same with the left. 

The smell of blood and urine filled the small room.

Coming to his feet, Hannibal turned Jackson over to his back and kneeled above him. His right eye was swollen shut, his sobs gone quiet. Hannibal’s hands came to grip around his neck, squeezing slowly. The bleeding stumps of Jackson’s arms instinctively tried to fight him off before they too went still.

Standing, Hannibal bent Jackson’s legs so that he was resting on his knees - upper body stretched forward. In front of his bowed head he placed the severed hands close together, palms up in supplication.

Hannibal stepped back, admiring, before he turned towards Will and extended his hand. Will took it, threading their fingers as he came to him. Together they took in Jackson’s offering, his postmortem plea for forgiveness. Will pushed his head against Hannibal’s shoulder and whispered into his ear.

“Thank you.”


	16. Insolent Noise Epilogue

The dogs gathered by the front door at the sound of the lock turning, tails swaying back and forth.

“Hey, ladies,” Will said softly as he walked through the door. 

Harper and Shelley excitedly gathered around him. The younger of the two jumped up causing Will to step back, his arm protecting his side.

“Hey, down,” he said. “Come on, down.”

The dogs backed up as Will walked into the house, Hannibal close behind him. They circled around them both, taking long sniffs as they did. 

“They missed you,” Hannibal said as he closed the door behind them. “I don’t think they quite know what to do with themselves when you’re not here.”

Will smiled softly and pet between their ears with his left hand, his right arm staying cocked at the elbow. Coming up beside him, Hannibal placed his hand on Will’s upper back and led him up the stairs, the old steps creaking under their weight as they climbed. When they reached the bathroom Hannibal steered them inside and moved to the deep clawfoot tub. Placing the plug in the drain he turned on the water, checking the temperature with his hand and adjusting the handles until he was satisfied.

Moving to a cabinet on the wall, Hannibal grabbed a small glass bottle and opened it, bringing it to his nose before pouring the clear liquid inside into the steaming water. Will smelled peppermint and lavender as he toed himself out of his shoes and socks. 

The younger man moved his hands to the top button of his shirt, wincing slightly at the pain in his side. Coming to stand in front of him, Hannibal gently pushed his hands away and undid the buttons himself. When the shirt hung loosely around Will’s body he carefully pushed it back and down his arms, revealing a large red and purple patch of flesh on his side. Bending at the waist, Hannibal lightly touched the skin. He pushed in with his fingertips and Will flinched and sucked in a breath.

“Apologies,” Hannibal said, righting himself.

Pushing their foreheads together, the older man’s fingers lingered on the jagged, horizontal scar on Will’s belly before dropping to undo his belt.

“Bruised, not broken,” he said.

Pulling his belt free, Hannibal unfastened Will’s pants and slid them down his slim hips, taking his boxers with him. His eyes scanned the naked flesh in front of him, taking in the new scrapes and contusions before he took Will’s hand and led him to the tub. Lifting a leg, Will leaned into Hannibal for support as he stepped into the bath and slowly sank into the water with a loud groan. 

“Good?” Hannibal asked as he turned the water off.

Will hummed in the affirmative and closed his eyes as he leaned back. He listened to Hannibal move around the room, placing a short stool behind Will’s head and coming to sit. The water moved with his hands as Hannibal dropped them into the bath above Will’s shoulders before moving up to his neck. Will sighed, completely malleable, as Hannibal massaged the flesh there, hands wrapping around his throat and releasing, wrapping and releasing.

Then they disappeared, moving back into the bath and then to Will’s hair. Hannibal cupped his hands and dropped small amounts of water on to the top of Will’s head, moving the liquid around with his fingers. There was a soft pop of a cap. Will listened to the smack of the shampoo being manipulated around in Hannibal’s hands before it was worked into his hair. The younger man sighed against the fingers pressing into his scalp. Hannibal worked up a lather, brushing a collection of suds away from Will’s ear.

“I thought you were dead.”

Will opened his eyes.

“When he gave me your ring, I looked at it in my hand and my skin seemed blanched. The band looked so dark and my palm was grey. I looked back up at him and he was void of color. I cut into his heels and he bled liquid ash.”

Hannibal’s hands were back in the water, pouring it over Will’s head again as he worked the shampoo out.

“Then I saw you, your eyes; initially they were all I could see in the dark. They looked liked the eyes of peacock feathers. When you came to me, when I held you - kissed you - I felt your body warm against mine and all the color rushed back.”

Will felt his eyes brimming with tears as Hannibal washed away the last of the shampoo.

“You are the very light of my life, Will,” Hannibal whispered, close to his ear. “I have never in all my years felt this for another human being. It’s frightening and arousing and consuming. The idea of you not here with me is unimaginable.”

Hannibal’s lips were at his neck.

“I would burrow through to the very center of the Earth to find you.”

Will turned his head and looked up, his wet hand grabbing for Hannibal’s cheek to pull him downinto a kiss. Their lips connecting complimented the gentle sound of the water moving in the tub. Will smiled as Hannibal moved to stand.

“Are you hungry?”

Reaching forward, Will grabbed his hand and pulled.

“Later,” he said. “Join me.”

Hannibal looked down at him, at the level of the water in the tub. He bent to open the drain and found it blocked by Will’s foot.

“Join me,” he repeated.

His lips curled up slightly, Hannibal removed his shoes and clothes until he stood naked. Bending his knees, Will moved forward in the tub as Hannibal stepped in behind him and carefully lowered himself down. The water rose to the rim and spilled over as Will leaned back between his legs and against his chest. He listened to the water splash against the tiled floor as Hannibal’s arms came up around him, his fingers moving to his nails to clean the dried blood underneath.  


	17. Ramalama (Bang Bang)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure if this chapter needed a warning or not so in the interest of playing it safe, be warned: there is consensual kink ahead.

With his vision obscured by the bags in his arms, Will carefully maneuvered the brass key into the lock and turned his wrist until he felt the deadbolt pull back. Pushing the door open with his shoulder he stepped into the house and kicked it closed again with his foot. His keys hit the floor as he struggled with the bags in his arms.

Cursing under his breath Will made his way towards the kitchen in the dim light, automatically shuffling his feet slightly to displace the excited taps of paws. It was only when he’d gotten the bags onto the counter that he realized that the dogs hadn’t greeted him. 

Just as he was about to call their names, a shadow moved in his peripheral vision. He only had enough time to suck in a quick breath before an arm was under his chin and he was pulled against a strong body. Leaning back into the man behind him, Will grabbed the intruder’s elbow and stepped back and to the side, quickly lowering his body down as he did. The grip around his neck loosened enough for him slip his head down through the trap of the man’s arm.

Will slid his hand down away from the man’s elbow and to his wrist, pulling it hard behind him as he pushed a leg into the back of the man’s knee. As the body in his grasp fell to the floor, Will raised his free hand up to strike and then stopped, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You’re home early.”

A small laugh broke through Hannibal’s wince as he twisted in Will’s grip.

“I am,” he breathed.

Shortly after the ordeal with Jackson, Hannibal had insisted that Will work on his hand to hand combat skills, specifically in regard to defensive and counter attacks. Will had years of experience from his days as a police officer followed by sporadic combat training during his time with the FBI but he’d largely moved on to reliance on firearms by that point. After their fall into the Atlantic, Hannibal had worked with him from time to time but it had largely fallen by the wayside. 

Then one morning as Will came down for breakfast he found that Hannibal had moved aside the furniture in their living room. As he’d walked closer to investigate, Hannibal’s arms were suddenly around him and he found himself on his back on top of thick, black mats that had been put in place over the floor. Harper and Shelley had barked from the kitchen in confusion as Hannibal pushed his weight down into him, pinning Will’s wrists by his head. Will had struggled against him, trying to free his legs and arms but had ultimately relaxed under his grip.

After that, they’d set a schedule.

Three times a week Hannibal would set the mats up on the floor and work with Will on his holds and strikes. As the weeks continued into months, Will got stronger, faster. He was able to anticipate Hannibal’s moves and recover quickly when surprised. 

Then, five nights ago Hannibal had left to attend to unfinished business in Florence. Will had argued - insisted - that he not go or that he at least be allowed to accompany him. But Hannibal had refused, promising that would be back in a week’s time.

And now he was on his knees, at Will’s mercy, in their kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Will asked, easing his grip though not releasing it. 

Hannibal shrugged the shoulder of his captive arm and shuffled his knees on the floor.

“I wanted to catch you off guard,” he said. 

Will grinned and released him, keeping his arm extended to help him to his feet. Hannibal stood, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder as he rolled the ball of the joint there. His eyes looked to the bags on the counter.

“Dinner?”

“Mmm,” Will hummed in the affirmative. “A welcome home supper.”

Hannibal smiled and walked towards the bags, peeking inside to look at the ingredients. 

“Étoufée?”

Will nodded and came towards him, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his head. He leaned in and kissed him softly.

“That was rude,” he said. “To ruin my surprise.”

Hannibal pushed his cheek into Will’s palm and brought a hand up to circle his wrist. 

“What’s to be done about that?”

The older man met his gaze just as Will’s free hand came up to grab at his throat, using the entire weight of his body to shove him back. Hannibal hit the wall with a loud thud, his grip on Will’s wrist tightening as barking came from the floor above them.

“Where did you put them?”

Hannibal swallowed under strong fingers.

“The bedroom.”

Will leaned in, his body pushing against the other man’s.

“Well then,” he said. “This will have to do.”

Hannibal lowered his eyes as Will leaned in, his lips hovering just over his mouth before he pulled back. The hand was gone from his throat and suddenly under both of his arms as Will turned his chest sharply to the side in a single, hard burst of energy. The younger man’s leg wrapped around Hannibal’s calf as they went crashing to the floor of the kitchen.

Hannibal exhaled in a loud gasp and quickly reached for Will’s neck, his fingers tightening around the flesh there. They struggled against each other, each body fighting for the upper hand, until Hannibal got a knee into Will’s belly. Will felt the air leave him and loosened his grip as Hannibal rolled them together until Will came to lay under him.

He drove his hips down, his body hardening at the warmth pressed against him. Will’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him down. Hannibal’s teeth nipped at the soft skin under his ear as he felt Will’s knee graze his crotch.

“Hannibal.”

Raising his head, the older man looked down at him. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted slightly with a question brimming just below the surface.

He waited.

“I want you to do something.”

There was a gentle hesitation in his voice, a faint blush of embarrassment and excitement on his cheeks.

Hannibal leaned down and kissed him, breathing against his lips.

“Anything you want.”

The body under him went slightly tense, his eyes closed. Will’s tongue quickly licked at his upper lip as he swallowed hard. Hannibal brought a hand to the jut of his hipbone, his lips sucking at the skin of Will’s jaw. There was a rustle of fabric as he pushed Will’s legs apart, coming to lay between them.

His breath was hot in his ear.

“Anything you want, Will.”

Will pushed back into the floor as if he meant to sink through it. It was getting hard to breathe with Hannibal’s weight on top of him and it sent blood pumping straight to his cock. There had always been violence in their romance, from its very inception until now; a nip of teeth, a forceful hand on the back of a neck, a calculated pressure on a larynx. But in the time that they’d been sparring, something different had been building. Will found himself wishing that Hannibal would hold him tighter, that he wouldn’t let him up. 

That he would hurt him. 

He licked his lips and spoke into Hannibal’s ear.

“I want you to hit me.”

Hannibal’s eyes seemed red as they bore down into him - burning - through wisps of grey hair. He rocked his hips, their bodies both hard and straining through their clothes. Will’s breath released in shorter and shorter bursts. He pushed up against Hannibal’s warm, unmoving mass; felt long fingers brush down his cheek, coming to a stop at his chin.

“You will tell me if it’s too much.”

Will moaned softly in anticipation, his trembling hands finding a place on Hannibal’s thighs as he rearranged himself to sit across Will’s hips. The older man rocked on top of him slowly for a moment before he stopped and waited.

“Will?”

His heart was beating wildly, threatening to escape from his chest. He was sure that Hannibal could hear it.

“Yes,” he managed. “Yes, I’ll tell you to stop.”

Hannibal released his chin and pulled his hands away. Leaning down, he placed one flat on the floor the side of Will’s head and raised the other, bringing it across Will’s cheek with a sharp _crack._ Will’s head turned with the force of the blow, his skin tingling from where Hannibal had struck him. There was an electric charge that ran from his face, deep into his chest, and settled heavy in his crotch. 

Hannibal paused, waiting for Will to turn his head back before he pulled his hand up again and brought it down against the same spot of Will’s slightly reddened skin. It stung - it _hurt_ \- and it made his cock throb painfully under Hannibal’s weight. Will could feel his ears turning red, felt tears welling up in his eyes as he struggled to understand the emotions running though him.

“Will.”

Breathing hard, Will looked up at him as the hand that had been striking him came to rest on the floor the other side of his head.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He inhaled a shaky breath, its vibrations ringing almost of laughter.

“Tell me what it feels like.” 

Will pushed a hand under the back of Hannibal’s shirt and spread his fingers out against his warm skin. Reaching up, he brought their mouths together and slipped his tongue between Hannibal’s lips. He kissed him roughly, his nails digging into the skin of his lower back, working up to the faded remains of Mason’s brand. Their mouths continued to move against each other as Will’s trembling hands came to the buttons of Hannibal’s shirt. He struggled to undo them for a moment before giving up and pulling the shirt open, buttons flying off and clacking to the floor.

Hannibal leaned up and away long enough to pull the garment down and off his body before he pushed back into the man below him, Will’s hands coming to the wide expanse of his chest; his fingertips dug into the flesh above his heart.

“Tell me what it feels like, Will.”

He ran his hands down the muscle and hair of Hannibal’s torso, settling at the hem of his pants.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice heavy with lust. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

His fingers slipped under fabric and kneaded the flesh of Hannibal’s backside, pulling him against himself harder as he did. 

“Exciting,” he offered. “Frightening but, good. God, it felt _good_.”

“Why? Why did it feel good?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Don’t think. Answer.” 

“Because it’s you. Because I, because I trust you.”

Will reached for the hand that Hannibal had struck him with. He massaged the thin skin over bulging veins and appreciated the length of his fingers in a way he never had before.

“I’ve seen these hands carry out tremendous acts of violence,” he continued as he pulled Hannibal’s hand down to his mouth, kissing each of his fingertips. “And to have them on me in the same manner but knowing you’ll stop . . . it feels good.” 

Hannibal took his hand away and slipped it under Will’s shirt, pulling the soft fabric up and over his head. Will’s thighs rubbed against Hannibal’s sides as the older man’s fingers found the waistband of his jeans. He leaned down and kissed him roughly.

“Do you want me to do it again?”

Will let his legs fall open wider, lifting his hips so Hannibal could slide his jeans and boxers down and off, coming to stand as he did.

“Yes,” he said. “And then I want to fuck you.” 

Hannibal grinned from where he stood and undid the front of his own pants, keeping his gaze locked on Will as he pushed the fabric down and stepped out. Will watched as he sank back to his knees and crawled over and on to him, the lean muscles in his thighs flexing as he did. Hannibal positioned himself back over Will’s lap, his cock hard and straining against his own belly. Will reached for him and took in a breath of surprise when Hannibal suddenly lurched forward and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He tugged sharply and Will reflexively reached for his forearm before relaxing his grip and letting his fingers only linger on his skin. 

Hannibal smiled and pulled again at his hair before he smoothed the skin of Will’s cheek with his other hand. The gentle touch made Will shiver as he waited, anticipation building in his gut. Then the fingers in his hair tightened, holding his head steady as Hannibal’s open palm connected with his skin. Moaning, Will struggled in Hannibal’s grasp, the entire side of his face warm and tingling. He pushed his hips up as hard as he could but Hannibal’s hot, naked weight was unmoving.

As he waited for the next blow, a peculiar feeling of safety, of calm, washed though him. He concentrated on the heaviness of the muscular body on top of him and felt powerful. 

“Stop,” Will exhaled before Hannibal could bring his hand down again.

Immediately the grip in his hair went slack and Hannibal lifted up slightly to take some of his weight off Will’s chest. The older man nuzzled into his neck, listening as Will’s breathing evened out. There was a long, stagnant pause before Will threaded his fingers into the hair at the back of Hannibal’s skull and pulled, bringing his head up so he could kiss him. They moved against each other lazily before Will righted himself, Hannibal climbing off his lap and settling on his back on the floor. 

Will slid on top of him, a knee between his thighs, and kissed him deeply, long and slow. Under him, Hannibal sighed and gingerly touched the still tingling skin of his cheek. Will pushed down into him harder, pulling back to kiss the column of Hannibal’s throat; the coarse stubble of his jaw scratching against his beard.

Reaching down between them, Will grabbed at both of their cocks and began a slow pull as Hannibal pushed up into him. The younger man’s shoulder bumped up against Hannibal’s chin as he gradually increased his pace. 

“Will, please.” 

Pulling his hand away, Will sat up and sighed - calculating. The bedroom seemed miles away. Rising to his knees he blindly reached up to the bags he’d placed on the counter and fumbled around until they tipped, their contents thumping and rolling across the granite. He peered up over the edge until he found the small bottle of olive oil.

Hannibal grinned up at him, his long fingers smoothing up Will’s thighs. 

The seal broke with a gentle snap as Will turned the cap open, pouring a small amount onto his hand and stroking up and down his cock until his fingers smoothly glided across his sensitive skin. Tipping more oil onto his hand he placed the glass bottle back on top of the counter and leaned down, pulling Hannibal’s bottom lip between his teeth before lifting one of his legs onto his shoulder and pushing a finger inside him.

Hannibal closed his eyes and tipped his head back as Will worked into him, slowly making room for himself. Pressing a kiss to the inside of his thigh, Will waited and then added another finger, carefully moving in and out, up and down. Under him, Hannibal sighed and leaned up to kiss him again.

“Good?”

Hannibal pulled in a breath and released it slowly.

“You know it is,” he answered. “It always is.”

Kissing his lips again, Will pulled his fingers away and came to sit on his knees, adjusting his grip on the thigh pressed against his chest. He held his breath and used his free hand to guide himself slowly in, pressing carefully as the body under him yielded. He felt Hannibal’s hand come to his side, fingertips pressing sharply as he exhaled and pushed all the way inside.

They moaned in unison, cries echoing off the walls.

Hannibal brought his free knee up, his foot flat on the floor as Will pulled back and wrapped a hand around the ankle by his ear. He pushed his hips forward and back again and again and again, keeping a slow pace. Hannibal’s toes curled against the floor, his arm reaching up to the back of Will’s neck to pull him down. 

It was building quickly for them both - it always did. 

Reaching between them, Hannibal grabbed at his straining cock and pulled as Will’s pace increased, their bodies slapping together with each thrust. Will’s eyes screwed shut, his fingers tightening around Hannibal’s ankle as his body stalled. There was a rush of warmth in Hannibal’s belly, a final push, and he felt himself spill onto his own chest, a moan breaking from his throat. 

Will’s heart beat wildly against his ribcage, his arms and legs trembling from strain. He lowered his head and listened to their ragged breathing, feeling his body growing soft as he slowly pulled out and collapsed on his back next to Hannibal. They lay there, shoulders touching, bodies slick with sweat, oil, and semen. The smell of sex permeated the kitchen. 

And then there was a loud scratching from upstairs followed by several high pitched whines.

Will sighed.

“They’re going to destroy the wood,” he said as he rolled his shoulders, coming to sit up. 

“Let them,” Hannibal responded as he grabbed at his arm. “The doors need to be replaced anyway.” 

Will smiled down at him and leaned in, kissing him softly.

“They probably need to go out, too,” he said. “And we need to shower. Come on. Come with me.”

Groaning, Hannibal sat up and rotated his neck as he came to his feet. He watched Will leave the kitchen and climb the stairs, the muscles in his calves flexing; his hips red from the press of Hannibal’s fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *awkward wave*
> 
> Hey all! Thank you so much for reading, especially those who have taken the time to leave comments. They really mean to the world to me. 
> 
> I have a couple more ideas for chapters for this series but I wanted to open it up to suggestions from you. If you have a scenario you'd like to see, just let me know! I cannot promise that I can make it happen and I need it to be in this world, but if I can, I will!


	18. The Painter and the God

With a grunt of effort, Will deposited the two large pumpkins onto the kitchen counter. They were hard, stable, bright orange and blemish free. Perfect.

“Will?” Hannibal asked as he approached. “What are those?”

Smiling, Will met his gaze.

“Pumpkins!”

Hannibal looked at the large gourds, nodded, and then set his eyes back to Will.

“Apologies,” he said. “A more appropriate question would have been ‘why did you get them’?”

Laughing under his breath, Will greeted the dogs who’d come to welcome him home and vigorously ran his hands down their backs.

“I was surprised to even find them,” he explained. “I didn’t know how much of a ‘thing’ it was down here.”

Moving back to the pumpkins, Will ran his hands around around their shape.

“But these will be perfect,” he said.

Hannibal stood motionless, staring. Waiting.

“For Jack o’lanterns.”

“Will?”

“For Halloween.”

When no response came, Will thumped his palms flat on one of the pumpkins.

“You are familiar with the concept, right?”

Hannibal cocked his head slightly.

“Yes. Young children dress as monsters and demons and go door to door demanding sweets for their efforts. This is largely an American invention. I certainly never partook in such things when I was young.”

Shelley jumped up to Will’s waist and he indulged her in spite of Hannibal’s disapproving glare, wrapping his arms around the furry legs hooked into his sides.

“That’s a big part of it, yeah.”  
  
“And you are aware that there will be no children coming to this house to ask for candy?”

Shelley licked at Will’s face as he pet her enthusiastically.

“Yes, I’m aware,” his voice thin with annoyance. “That’s not all there is to it, Hannibal. When I was living in New Orleans I used to love carving pumpkins, having a nice dinner, and just relaxing to the crackle of a fire.”

Shelley pushed away and put all four of her paws back on the floor. Will pet her head again, playfully grabbing at a floppy ear before he stepped around the counter and moved closer to the other man.

“Look,” he began. “I’m not saying you _need_ to partake. But I think it would be nice - fun, even.”

Will came closer and placed a hand on the side of his neck.

“If nothing else, can you make something out of the guts and seeds?”

Hannibal eyed the pumpkins again.

“The endocarp is not ideal for cooking,” he said. “Sugar pumpkins would be better.”

Will sighed.

“Though I’m sure I could find use for the seeds,” he conceded. “Perhaps a red salad with a beet and pumpkin seed vinaigrette.”

Leaning in, Will kissed him chastely. Hannibal’s mind formulated recipes.

“Is there a particular dish you’d like for me to prepare?”

“No,” Will answered. “Whatever you’d like.”

**

October 31st. 

Hannibal had been sequestered in the kitchen for hours, the countertops full of colorful produce and spices. Just before the sun began to set, Will joined him. He poured them both a glass of red wine and set to work on the two pumpkins. He carefully worked a knife around the top of the first one, creating a lid which he pulled free by the stem; the thick cap of the gourd came away bringing several fibrous strands with it. His forearms were buried inside the cavity of the second pumpkin, pulling the last of the seeds and guts free when he heard Hannibal curse softly under his breath.

An incredibly rare occurrence.

“Will, I’m afraid I must ask you to do me a tremendous service.”

“Hmm?” Will hummed as he moved the bowl of pumpkin innards to the sink to wash.

“As it happens I have managed to forget several significant spices which I require for this evening.”

Turning the faucet on, Will ran cool water through the pulpy orange mess, pulling at the strands and separating them from the seeds.

“Sofía’s shop will be open for just another hour,” he continued as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Could I possibly implore you to visit her? She will surely have everything that I need.”

Turning the water off, Will watched as Hannibal glided around the kitchen, stopping to finely chop some zucchini. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Are you sure she’ll have everything?”

“Unquestioningly,” he confirmed. “However, I will call her and let her know that you are on your way so that she may prepare everything ahead of time.”

Will came up behind him, his fingers playing with the bow of the apron tied at the small of Hannibal’s back. 

“Sure,” he said softly. “Do you have a list?”

“No need,” he responded, turning and moving around Will to reach for his phone. “I shall call her now.”

The younger man nodded before grabbing the keys to their truck. Hannibal nodded at him as he headed out the door to the sound of soft and perfectly articulated Spanish.

**

Will returned just over two hours later with a small cloth bag full of spices. Sofía had warmly greeted him upon his arrival, inquired as to the health and wellbeing of the two of them, spoke enthusiastically about her daughter’s upcoming wedding, and then produced the small bag from behind the register. When Will had moved to pay her, she stopped him and laughed, kissing him warmly on both cheeks before playfully hurrying him out the door so she could lock up for the night.

Walking into the house, Will was surprised to find the kitchen completely empty save for a crock pot on the counter which smelled strongly of apples. The rest of the room carried the faint, warm aroma of onions, garlic, and meat but was entirely void of the source. He placed the bag on the counter and called out. 

From Hannibal’s office he heard a faint rustle before everything stilled.

He called out again.

The door suddenly opened and Shelley came running at him at top speed, her gait hindered by something flopping against her side. As she came closer, Will made out the small crafted wing bouncing against her ribs as well as a tiny, soft crown between her ears; both held to her body by a black elastic band.

“Hey,” Will said as she approached. “What-”

Hannibal emerged from the office then, Harper just in front of him. A colorful red and black hat was resting on the back of her head, kept in place by her ears which were protruding from two thin holes in the fabric. Around her neck was a puffy collar made up of grey, yellow, green, and black patches. 

“Hannibal, what-”

He kneeled down to pet them, his lips parted in confusion.

“It was my understanding that when children are not present within a home that individuals tend to enjoy dressing the family pets.”

Will looked up at him from where he was kneeling. His laughter filled the room.

“Oh my God, you made them costumes?” he exclaimed, as though he could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. “You - she’s a bee?”

“She is meant to be Bubilas, the old Norse god of honey and bees,” Hannibal explained as he walked towards them. “At least, that was the intention.”

Will touched the single grey wing fastened to Shelley’s side and looked back up at him.

“She destroyed the other one.”

Will laughed, kissing the side of Shelley’s head, his nose bumping her fabric crown as he did. He then turned his attention to Harper who was waiting patiently for his affection.

“And who is she?”

Hannibal kneeled on the floor next to him.

“Picasso’s ‘Woman in Hat and Fur Collar’,” he explained simply. “She was much more cooperative.” 

Will’s smile was broad, reaching back to his ears.

“When did you do this?” he asked. “I mean, when did you make all this?”

“Mostly in the early morning while you slept,” he explained. “It didn’t take long once I had the material I needed.”

Will turned and grabbed both sides of his face.

“Hannibal. Oh my god.” 

The older man smiled back at him and let himself be kissed. It was long and unhurried.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Will said into his mouth, his cheeks bulging with joy.

“No,” Hannibal responded. “But it was my pleasure.”

The pieces all began to come together in Will’s head.

“Did you even need me to go get those spices?” he asked. “Or did you just want me out of the house?”

Hannibal came to his feet, holding his hand out to Will.

“Of course I did,” he said. “I would never send you on a fool’s errand. Though it would be folly to assume that I had forgotten something so vital; I called Sofía over a week ago to give her time to acquire everything I needed.”

Of course.

Will took his hand and came to his feet. Casting another look down at the dogs he followed Hannibal into the kitchen were the older man picked up the small cloth bag and carefully opened it. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, his lips curling into a smile, before he placed the spices into a metal ball used for steeping tea and dropped it into the crock pot.

“That will be ready in a few hours. Now, come.” 

Will turned as Hannibal walked around him, following him to the back door. He pushed it open and stepped aside for Will to walk out first, the younger man’s face going slack as he stepped out into the yard.

Just beyond the house was a wooden table Will had constructed not long after they’d moved in. Running down the center of the table was a collection of orange and red leaves, hugging small white and orange pumpkins and tall yellow candles. On several small plates were portions of meat, vegetables, and salad. Just beyond the table were two fire pits, both throwing licking flames into the air.

Hannibal came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, pulling him flush against him.

“Happy Halloween, Will.”

The dogs brushed against their legs as they ran out, their movements feeding shadows to the fire. With a hand on the small of his back, Hannibal led Will to the table. Will poured them both a glass of red wine from the waiting decanter as Hannibal prepared two plates. There was a familiar meat braised with apples and topped with crispy Brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes in a hot honey sauce, and a red cabbage salad with fennel, drizzled with vinaigrette made from pumpkin seeds. 

Their conversation was accented by the crackling wood of the fire and the natural song of nocturnal wildlife in the black forest beyond their home.

When they’d finished eating, Hannibal took their plates and disappeared inside, returning a few minutes later with a small cake, decorated simply with a thick, off-white icing.

“A cake made with zucchini, beets, and carrots. Topped with a goat cheese frosting.”

He cut into the dessert, placing a piece on a plate and putting it on the table in front of Will.

“You made a harvest cake,” he said with upturned lips.

“I did,” he confirmed.

They ate slowly, watching as the fires lost their enthusiasm before they both went back inside, Will calling the dogs as they did. They walked into the kitchen, the air thick with the smell of hot apples, spices, and brandy and together they set about to putting away the remaining food and cleaning the dishes. While Will was putting the last of the dried cutlery away, he raised an eyebrow as Hannibal pulled out several small knifes.

“If I eat anything else I may not survive the night.”

Hannibal smiled and went into the pantry, returning with the pumpkins Will had hallowed out before.

“Will you give this a hideously frightening face?” he asked. “To keep the monsters at bay?”

“It may be too late for that,” Will smirked. “But I’ll see what I can do.” 

They sat on high stools at the island in the kitchen and carefully cut patterns out of the skin of their respective pumpkins. After a while, Hannibal got up and poured them large helpings of the spiked cider from the pot before moving to his office and returning with a scalpel to continue with his work.

“I feel like alcohol and knives may not make for the best combination,” Will said.

Hannibal blew a small collection of shavings from the face of his pumpkin.

“I’m sure nothing will happen which cannot be appropriately mended.”

It was just around 11 PM when they’d finished, though Will had spent the last 45 minutes slowly sipping cider and watching as Hannibal meticulously worked, holding the scalpel with trained and disciplined fingers. Placing two tea candles inside the pumpkins, they walked to the front of their home and settled the Jack o’lanterns on either side of the door. Will lit the small candles inside and the two of them stood back, admiring their glowing work: one a collection of sharp teeth and eyes and the other a detailed face of the Florence cathedral.

They stood, shoulder to shoulder, for a long moment before they walked back inside where a cubist painter and an ancient god awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (early) Halloween!


	19. Monster

Hannibal wiped his hands - slick with red - on the nearby dishtowel and picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey. I’m sorry but I’m going to be late.”

Turning his eyes back to the stove, Hannibal calculated.

“That’s all right. How long will you be?”

He could hear the jingle of the dogs’ leashes and small, muffled bursts of conversation in the distance.

“We’re still at the park.”

Despite his intentions, Hannibal lowered his eyes and sighed gently into the phone.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just lost track of time.”

Will was genuinely remorseful. Hannibal had gradually let go of a lot of aspects from his life in Baltimore, with dinners being a steadfast exception. Though he still prepared breakfast and lunch for the two of them, those meals were often more simple then they had been in his former life. But dinner remained just as opulent.

And was to start at precisely 8 PM.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Hannibal frowned and walked to the stove, turning off the burners. The blue flame under the pan of simmering red sauce shrank and then vanished altogether.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I may be able to salvage it for tomorrow.”

There was more commotion on the other end.

“Is anything the matter?”

“No, no,” Will said. “There were just a lot of dogs here today and I lost track of time. We’re leaving now though. I’ll be home soon.”

Hannibal listened to the sound of the car door opening and the panting of exhausted dogs as they jumped into the backseat.

“I can stop and get something for tonight if you’d like.”

The engine rumbled to life.

“Was this all an elaborate ploy to bring home food from _Del Campo_?”

Will laughed and clicked his seatbelt into place.

“No, but a potential silver lining? For me.”

Hannibal smiled.

“I’ll toss all the styrofoam before you see it and let you plate it.”

“How generous. Yes, that would be fine.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

**

“I’m going to go into town for a few things. Do you need anything?”

Hannibal looked up from his book, gently petting Harper behind her ears as she dozed next to him on the couch, her head on his thigh. The dog’s yellow body was perfectly contained on top of the thick blanket that Hannibal had purchased for this exact this scenario.

“What are you getting?”

Will grabbed the keys from the counter, causing Harper’s ears to perk and her head to lift from Hannibal’s leg. He looked down and quieted her, his hand moving to her back.

“I need some more nails and lacquer for the dresser,” he explained. “But I can stop somewhere else if you need anything.”

“We’re low on coffee if you’d care to pick up more beans.”

“Sure,” Will said. “That’s it?”

Hannibal nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

It was close to three hours before Will returned, the dogs running to greet him at the front door. They circled around him excitedly, sniffing at his hands and clothes. Hannibal left his study to greet him only to find that he was already upstairs. The shower was running and the bathroom door locked with a click.

On the island in the kitchen was a bag of Hannibal’s favorite coffee beans.

**

“Is it not too hot to take them out?”

Will gathered the leashes in one hand and slapped his upper thigh with the other, calling the dogs’ names as he did.

“No, they’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s good for them to frequently socialize with other dogs. We won’t be gone long.”

Several hours later, they returned. Hannibal greeted them and moved to touch Will who seemed to dodge him, using the dogs as a barrier between their bodies. Harper and Shelley both seemed relaxed and orderly. Their gentle panting filled the room.

“How was it?”

“Hot,” Will said. “You were right. I’m going to take a shower.”

The younger man broadly passed him and headed up the stairs. Hannibal heard him enter and leave the bedroom followed by the click of the bathroom lock and water hitting porcelain. He cast the dogs an inquiring look, as if waiting for them to answer him. When they did not, he walked up the stairs and moved into the bedroom. Will’s wallet was on his nightstand - right where it always was - and Hannibal stared at it for a moment before walking over to it. Picking the worn leather up in his hands, he listened to the sound of water hitting Will’s body as he opened it and looked through the cards organized inside.

Will’s driver’s license under his false name.

A few colorful bills.

He placed the wallet back on his nightstand - slightly tilted just as he had found it - and went back downstairs.

He listened as Will left the bathroom and immediately started a load of laundry.

**

Hannibal woke as soon as the body next to him began to stir, just as a dark blue light began to break through the clouds outside. Will’s lower body vibrated as he stretched his legs slowly and rolled onto his side, knowing that he’d have a cold, wet nose in his face soon, followed by a gentle whine to be let outside.

Sliding closer, Hannibal slipped a heavy arm around his waist and pulled, bringing his back flush against his chest. Sighing softly, Will pushed back into him and tilted his head up on his pillow as Hannibal’s mouth found the side of his neck. He heard him inhale deeply as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to his throat.

Will’s lips parted, Hannibal’s name on the tip of his tongue, as he found himself pressed onto his back by the strength of Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder. He arched up against the weight of the heavy body that moved on top of him as Hannibal’s hands slipped under the cotton of his shirt, pushing the fabric up and dropping slow, deliberate kisses to his chest. Will’s legs fell open as Hannibal settled between them, a heavy hand reaching down to stroke him through his boxers.

Will moaned, his head and body still clouded by sleep, as he felt long fingers grip at the elastic band. He lifted onto his shoulder blades as Hannibal pulled the fabric down and off his legs, leaving a wet trail of kisses down his torso as he did. He traced the pattern of the jagged scar on Will’s belly with his fingernail as he settled on his knees between his legs and took the entire length of him into his mouth in one fluid motion. 

Groaning loudly, Will pushed his head back into the pillow behind him and threaded his fingers into Hannibal’s hair, curling them into a gentle fist. His lethargic body came to life under Hannibal’s attentions, his toes curling down, heels pushing into the sheets. Hannibal’s lips and tongue worked slowly, moving hot and wet, up and down. He pushed Will back into his mouth as far as he could and swallowed, the muscles of his throat contracting around him.

“Hannibal, Christ.”

The grip in his hair tightened as Hannibal continued to work, pressing his tongue flat against Will’s cock and sucking hard. Bucking his hips up slightly, Will’s breathing turned ragged and desperate, a telltale gesture that made Hannibal focus on keeping him pushed back deep inside his throat. The fingers in his hair pulled hard, the body under him going still as Hannibal felt a warmth fill his mouth. He swallowed hard, breathing in heavily through his nose, until Will had nothing left to give him.

Pulling back, Hannibal licked his lips and moved to press his knees on the bed outside Will’s hips. He leaned down, taking his mouth in a lazy kiss as Will reached down between them to reach for Hannibal’s straining cock. The older man caught his wrist before he could, pinning it to the bed at his side. Hannibal pressed their bodies together hard, one hand staying on Will’s wrist and the other reaching between them and wrapping around himself.

Will brought his other hand up around his shoulder and pulled him down tighter, their faces inches apart as Hannibal worked rapidly. He breathed heavy against Will’s mouth, eyes locked on his, as he rushed to the edge. Will’s fingers dug hard into his shoulder as Hannibal buried his face in the side of his neck, his mouth hot and open, biting down as he came on the inside of Will’s thigh. 

He held his body still for a moment, lips pulling back to kiss at the mark he’d left, before he rolled to his side with an exhausted exhale. They lay there shoulder to shoulder, their breathing filling the room, chests rising and falling as their pulses slowed. Will pushed his fingers into the hair at the back of Hannibal’s head as the older man moved to rest his ear against his chest, listening to the slowing dance of his heart.

“My apologies, Will.”

Hannibal rubbed his slightly stubbled cheek against the skin of his chest.

“I dreamt of your taste,” he responded. “I woke needing to have you in my mouth.”

Will moaned softly and smiled, tugging at the hair in his hand.

Hannibal ran a hand down his body slowly, stopping when he got to the soft skin at Will’s thigh. He felt the congealing liquid there and pressed it against Will’s flesh as if he meant to push it inside him.

**

“What is this?”

Hannibal looked up from the cutting board as the small white business card was flung in front of him. Will’s face was tight with anger as he approached him, hands on his hips.

“Hannibal, what is this?”

Using the knife to push the minced garlic to the side of the board, Hannibal cocked his head to read the name on the card.

“Camila Sosa,” he said plainly. “Trail guide.”

Will reminded still, his fingers gripping into sides. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he looked into the eyes of the man in front of him.

“You thinking of doing some hiking?” he asked sarcastically.

“Are you?”

Will’s chest was heaving, his eyes wild. The air around them was sharp.

“Did you follow me?”

The knife in Hannibal’s hand came to rest on the wooden board.

“I am disappointed, Will,” he said. “I would have expected that your awareness of your surroundings would have improved since Jackson.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Will dropped his hands and placed them on the marble island.

“Did you kill her?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Hannibal’s face conveyed no emotion.

“No.”

Lowering his eyes, Will reached for the nearby stool and sat down. His breath left him in a loud sigh. He covered his face with his hands, rubbed his eyes, and then dropped them to the counter.

“You could have just asked me."

“Asked you what? What you were hiding from me?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal’s eyes turned cold.

“I was going to tell you,” Will said. “I just needed time.”

Hannibal’s mind flashed with images that up until that moment he’d been able to hold at bay. Will’s arms were around her, hers around him. Their bodies pressed close. She kissed him and pulled him closer, her hand on the side of his face. She tasted his lips, the skin of his neck.

“When did it start?”

Will’s brows furrowed slightly.

“When did it . . . when did I meet her?”

There was something different in Hannibal’s gaze now; an expression Will hadn’t seen since that rainy night in his kitchen in Baltimore.

“Hannibal, I’m not - do you think I’m sleeping with her?”

When he didn’t answer, Will got up from the stool and stepped around the island to stand next to him. He nudged a hand forward to bump his fingers against Hannibal’s wrist.

“It’s not that,” he said. “Hannibal, I’m sorry. It’s not that.”

He smiled softly at him.

“I understand why you’d think that,” he continued. “But that’s not it.”

Hannibal stood unmoving.

“Do you miss women?”

Will leaned backed, struck by his candidness.

“You know I married you, right?”

“You married her too.”

Will nodded and clasped his hands together, spinning the black band around his finger.

“I did,” he said. “I married her because I loved her. And she loved me. And I _left_ her because it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to just be loved.”

He took a step back towards him.

“You showed me who I am. I am only authentic when I’m with you. When I was with Molly I would lie awake in bed at night and think of you. Sometimes I could feel your eyes on me even when I knew you were hundreds of miles away, in that cell. All of that, Hannibal - all that makes up what _this_ is-”

He motioned between their bodies with his hands.

“It’s so much more than what’s between your legs. Yes, you’re the only man I’ve ever been with. You’re also the only person I’ve ever been myself with. And for the record? Even if you take away the preternatural connection between us? Physical intimacy with you-”

Another step forward. Lips inches apart.

“Fucking you and being fucked by you has been the most tremendous sex of my life.”

He kissed him softly.

“You’re stuck with me,” he whispered. “‘till death do us part.”

Hannibal smiled and leaned in to kiss him back. As he pulled away he felt a rush of relief, peppered with unfamiliar embarrassment.

“So what is it?” he asked. “Who is she?”

Will laughed and ran his tongue over his upper lip.

“Seems almost silly now,” he said. “So I met Camila at the dog park the other day. I noticed her dog and we got to talking. Turns out, it wasn’t her dog. It was her mother’s and her mother is going into assisted living and Camila can’t take the dog in because her husband is allergic-”

“Will,” Hannibal interrupted in an uncharacteristic display of rudeness. “I’ve told you I’m open to the idea of adopting another dog. You didn’t need to hide that.”

“I know,” Will said. “I know you’re okay with another dog. But I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about 5.”

Hannibal blinked.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Will said. “She’s pregnant. And I thought about telling you that if we took her we could find homes for the puppies once they’re born but . . . Hannibal, if we take her, I’m not going to give those puppies up.”

Hannibal considered.

“Five including the mother?”

“Yes. Five including the mother-to-be. Sadie. She’s a terrier mix. Small.”

Hannibal placed a hand on the side of his neck.

“You had seven dogs in Wolf Trap, yes?”

“I did.”

“They seemed . . . manageable.”

Will smiled.

“They were. But a litter of puppies will be different. I’ll need your help.”

Hannibal nodded.

“What about Harper and Shelley?”

“I took them to meet her the other day at Camila’s house, on neutral ground. When it was scorching outside,” Will explained. “They were great with her. Well, Shelley was a bit of an idiot but she’ll be okay.”

“And what did you tell Camila?” Hannibal asked.

“I told her I wanted to take her,” Will said. “That we had the space. But that I’d have to speak to my old man first.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. 

“What do you think?” Will asked as he leaned in to kiss him. “Old man?”

Hannibal grinned and snaked a hand up to Will’s throat, wrapping and squeezing lightly before he leaned forward and pressed their mouths together again.

“All right.”


	20. One, Two, Three, Four

“Hey Ladies,” Will said as he moved past Hannibal who held the door open for him. “You remember Sadie?”

Harper and Shelley looked up at him inquisitively, tails wagging slowly as they eyed the plump yellow and white dog in his arms. Hannibal closed the door and watched as Will slowly dropped to his knees in the foyer, carefully cradling the pregnant terrier who was wiggling with excitement. The two larger dogs approached him and nosed at her, Shelley jumping forward on her front paws, nails clicking on the wood.

“Careful, careful,” Will said softly. “There, that’s good.”

He waited for all the dogs to settle before he cautiously lowered Sadie to her feet and mindfully watched her waddle up to Harper and Shelley. The dogs clearly remembered each other and Will relaxed when he saw the two lab mixes play more gently with her than they had before. Sadie slowly bounced between the bigger dogs, pausing to sniff at her new surroundings. Hannibal watched Will protectively follow all the canines around the house. After making a couple of rounds around the first floor, Will beckoned the new addition upstairs.

“Sadie,” he said. “Sadie, come here.”

Perking her ears up, the small dog pranced over to him, her tiny, pink tongue hanging below her chin.

“I want to show you something.”

Will walked up the stairs, waiting to see how Sadie would manage them and smiled when she easily hopped up each step. Hannibal followed behind her as Will led her into the bathroom.

“This is for you,” he explained as he motioned to the wooden box he’d crafted which was resting on the tile against the wall. The floor of the box was lined with torn pieces of newspaper and cloth. Hannibal watched as Will encouraged her into the whelping box, petting behind her ears as she easily stepped into it and seemed to give a wag of approval.

“She seems pleased,” Hannibal said.

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “Yeah, I hope so. It’d be nice if we could get her to have her puppies in here; it’ll be the easiest place to clean up.”

Satisfied, Sadie stepped out of the box and continued her exploration of the second floor, with Shelley and Harper following after.

“When do you think she’ll deliver?” Hannibal asked.

Will stood next to him near the entrance of the bathroom.

“Any day now,” he said. “Smaller dogs have a gestation period of around 60 days or so, and Camila was pretty certain today would be 59.”

Reaching down, Will reached for Hannibal’s left hand and gently massaged his fingers.

“Thank you, again” he whispered.

Hannibal leaned in and nosed along his jawline.

“Anything.”

**

“Will, there is a dog giving birth in the closet.”

Will sharply drew his chest up, tapping the crown of his head against the pipes above him.

“Ow, _fuck_ ,” he grunted as he crawled out from under the sink. “What?”

Hannibal was standing near his feet, regarding him with a patient, amused look. Coming to stand, Will placed the wrench in his hand back in the toolbox on the counter.

“Now? In the closet?” he asked. “Why didn’t she use the box?”

“You’ll have to ask her,” Hannibal said. “I tried but she seems rather preoccupied at the moment.”

“Where are the dogs?”

Will walked past him as he spoke, headed towards the stairs with Hannibal following behind him.

“Outside the door,” he explained. “I closed it to come get you.”

Picking up his pace, Will bounded up the steps and gave the dogs a rushed greeting before carefully opening the bedroom door enough for he and Hannibal to slide inside before closing it again. Slowly approaching the closet, Will kneeled down and peered inside. The little dog was laying on her side on top of several pieces of cloth she’d dragged from the box in the bathroom, panting.

Carefully, Will leaned forward and gave her a gentle pet on the back of her head, waiting to see how she would react to him being so close to her. She leaned back into his touch and licked at his wrist. 

“Hey,” he said. “Good girl.”

He smiled at her and then rocked back onto his heels and up to his feet.

“I’ll be right back.”

Hannibal watched him leave the room, shooing the dogs on the other side of the door aside as he did. He returned a few minutes later with two pairs of rubber gloves and clean towels of various sizes. Both men sat on their knees a respectful distance away and watched - waited - for the first puppy to emerge.

“Do you know when it started?” Will asked.

“No,” Hannibal answered, keeping his eyes on Sadie. “Harper made it clear about five minutes ago that something needed my attention and that’s when I found her.”

Will nodded and turned his attention back to the small dog in front of them. It was only a few more minutes before Sadie lifted her hind leg and started licking as the first puppy began to appear. The two men watched as she pushed it from her body, licking at the placenta to break it. When the puppy was fully delivered, Sadie licked at it swiftly until it started to move around on its own, instinctively seeking its mother’s belly.

Everything continued on smoothly - the wet sounds of new life and Sadie’s panting filling the room - until the fourth and final puppy was due to be delivered. The new mother seemed to struggle, trying to adjust her positioning though she was exhausted and nursing her freshly arrived newborns. Though he was visibly anxious, Will waited until he was positive that she needed assistance before he put a pair of rubber gloves on his hands and slowly crawled towards her.

“Hey, girl,” he said softly. “It’s okay.” 

He reached out and carefully touched the last puppy, who seemed to be stuck halfway out. With gentle, careful hands he helped slowly pull it free, placing it on the cloth near the rest of the puppies. Gingerly, he pulled the veiny, slick sac away from the diminutive, unmoving body and looked up as Hannibal appeared close to him with a pair of small forceps and suction bulb.

He hadn’t seen him leave the room.  

He pulled his hands back as Hannibal put the other pair of gloves on and leaned down to clip the umbilical cord. Sadie nosed at his hand and then started licking over the little body repeatedly, but it failed to move. It was a long moment before Will grabbed one of the clean towels and picked the unmoving puppy up and held it in his palm. Positioning the newborn with its head facing the floor, Will lifted his hand at an angle as Hannibal leaned in with the bulb and sucked away excess fluid and afterbirth from the puppy’s nose and mouth.

When he was done, Will covered the damp little body in his hand with the other side of the towel and rubbed vigorously but gently. Hannibal glanced at his watch as Will worked, counting the seconds. After a long moment, he placed a hand on Will’s arm to stop his movements and drew his head down to wrap his mouth around the dog’s nose and mouth, puffing careful air in three soft bursts.

He pulled away and nodded and Will continued rubbing the little body with the towel. Will cast Sadie a sympathetic look, as if preparing to give her the sad news, when the puppy twitched in his hands. Gasping, Will placed two fingertips on the dog’s chest and felt its beating heart. 

“He’s breathing,” he said.

He waited, rubbing the puppy a little more until he was assured, before he placed it at Sadie’s side who welcomed it with sniffs and licks.

Both men peeled the gloves off their hands and watched the new family settle.

**

The next day, Will walked into the bedroom and knelt by the closet. They’d moved the whelping box there and he was pleased to see Sadie and her puppies take to it; she seemed more comfortable having the two humans near at night. One by one, Will tied soft ribbon of different colors around the pups necks so that he could track their overall health, weight, and temperament.

They hadn’t settled on names and opted for _un_ , _duex_ , _trois_ , and _quatre_ for the time being.

At night, Will listened to them coo and grunt with Hannibal’s arm draped across his chest.

Harper and Shelley stopped sleeping in their beds, opting to doze by the bedroom door vigilantly instead.

**

Around two weeks after they were born, their eyes began to open. Soon after, they slowly started venturing outside the box. Will built a wooden gate and installed it at the top of the stairs to keep any of them from tumbling down. 

He adjusted the size of their ribbons as they grew.

**

Months passed.

They were weaned off their mother’s milk and introduced to the food Will made. They had four dishes held in an elevated trough in the back of the kitchen. Hannibal worked with them to make sure that they never begged for food and learned to stay out when food was being prepared. 

Housetraining them all was exhausting and cost them both sleep and furniture.

But they survived, with several refurnished rooms which Will suspected Hannibal had secretly been thanking the puppies for.

They never changed their names.

**

One morning, Will woke with the sun and opened the front door to let everyone out into the vast yard. The puppies were 8 months old now and full of insatiable energy. They’d long ago developed distinct personalities and traits and their colored ribbons had been abandoned. Will stepped out onto the porch and watched them all race around the grounds, the puppies sometimes stumbling but quickly getting back to their feet.

Harper and Shelley were three times as big as any them but also seemed very aware of this and played very gently. Sadie developed a habit of teasingly trying to bite at their long tails.

For a brief moment, as Will stood and listened to the stampede of canines make wide circles on the grass he felt himself transported back to quiet mornings in Wolf Trap. It seemed like a life he’d only dreamt of but pulled at him like a bittersweet memory. He didn’t miss anything about his old life, except his dogs.

He often wondered if Alana had found homes for them all, perhaps taken a few of them in herself. Winston, at least. Maybe Winston was her son’s dog now. Will hoped that they didn’t feel abandoned. He wondered if perhaps he’d have to flee without this new pack one day. What would he do about them? 

He heard Hannibal come up behind him and looked down as a warm mug was offered.

“Thank you.”

The coffee was smooth and tasted vaguely of citrus and blueberries. Hannibal’s eyes were heavy with sleep.

What a quaint, domestic scene.

Will looked up at Hannibal who was regarding the dogs with an amused gaze. He enjoyed having them around - enjoyed their companionship and watching them grow - but his eyes had changed in the last couple of months; there was an old, familiar lust resting there that wasn’t being sated in the bedroom.

Will leaned in and kissed the side of his neck, his breath warm and humid from the coffee.

“Let’s hunt tomorrow.”

Hannibal smiled and leaned into him.

“Anything.”


	21. Origin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a very quick, mild reference to a past sexual assault in this chapter.

About two months had passed before Will learned that Hannibal had reoccurring nightmares. The first time he’d heard Hannibal cry out in his sleep was soon after their fall into the ocean; Will had opened his eyes beside him in the only bed in the safe house and watched Hannibal struggle to breathe, air escaping him in panicked bursts, before he’d opened his eyes and settled back down. At the time, Will had written it off as an underlaying consequence of their plummet and the injuries that followed.

Then it happened again when they’d moved into another house. Will had been dreaming of coming across a wolf snared in a claw trap in an impenetrable forest. He’d knelt to try and free it and found himself rendered immobile by the sound of it crying in agony, an incomprehensible word on its long, pink tongue. He’d laid in his bed and waited to find that the wolf had followed him out of his dream and was howling from across the hall. After another minute or so, it stopped.

Soon after they started sharing a bed again out of want rather than need (though maybe it was both) and Hannibal’s nightmares still plagued him on occasion. It was during this time that Will was able to hear that he was calling out for his sister. One night as he was pulled out of sleep by Hannibal’s twisting body crying for Mischa, Will placed a firm hand on his shoulder and said his name gently. Hannibal had opened his eyes immediately, moving his gaze across the ceiling back and forth before sitting up in bed, his chest heaving.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice weak and tired.

Will nodded.

“What happened to you?” he asked. “To her?”

Hannibal shook his head and laid back down, turning his back to Will as he fell back to sleep.

They settled into their home in Argentina, killed and feasted when they saw fit, wore black bands to solidify their commitment to each other, and filled their home with a midsize group of canines. Still, Hannibal’s nightmares continued. 

Will had tried to breach the subject over breakfast twice and both times Hannibal had shut him down with a simple “another time, perhaps”.

Now, on a warm summer night, Will awoke to the feel of Hannibal’s body pushing against his. Opening his eyes, he sat upright and looked at him in the dark: his hands were clenched by his hips, his face contorted in longing and his brow beaded with sweat. He whimpered and then screamed for Mischa once, twice, three times.

Will grabbed both of his wrists, amazed at the strength it took to hold his thrashing body still even in his wretched sleep. 

“Hannibal,” he said firmly. “Hannibal. Hannibal, please.”

Several of the dogs were drawn into the bedroom by the commotion; Shelley nosed at Hannibal’s exposed foot and whined.

“Hannibal!”

His eyes snapped open as Hannibal lurched up, shaking Will’s grasp loose. He looked around the room frantically and spoke in frenzied Lithuanian; Will had only ever heard him speak his mother tongue in his sleep and in soft, guttural cries when his pleasure took him.

He looked at Will and continued to speak, his voice breaking with his panic.

“Hannibal,” Will whispered as he touched the side of his face. “Hannibal, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He pushed into Will’s hand, swallowing thickly. His breathing came low and shallow as he spoke.

“Will?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “It’s me. I’m here.”

Hannibal pulled away and leaned back against the headboard.

“Where did you go?” Will asked. “Where _do you go_?”

He sniffed and shook his head, pulling his foot back under the covers and shooing Shelley away.

“Not tonight,” he said as he laid back down. “Perhaps in the morning.”

Will sighed and folded his hands in his lap.

“You won’t,” he said. “Don’t lie.”

“As you wish,” Hannibal responded. “I have no desire to speak with you about this.”

Will watched him close his eyes, his entire body stiff from his nightmare.

“Why won’t you tell me about her?”

Hannibal opened his eyes again, his face displaying an uncharacteristic lack of patience.

“Will, please,” He pleaded. 

For a moment, Will considered backing down but the sight of Hannibal’s bare chest continuing to rise and fall at an elevated rate made him press on.

“When?” he asked. “When are you going to tell me about why you wake up screaming in the middle of the night? About what happened to you?”

“Will.”

“Why won’t you tell me?” he continued. “Have we not been through enough together that you don’t think you can - what - trust me with it? That I can’t understand it?”

“That’s not it,” Hannibal said as he looked at him. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“No, of course not. It has to do with you,” Will said. “But I _am you_ , Hannibal. There is no ‘you’ and ‘me’ anymore.”

Hannibal looked away and shook his head on his pillow.

“No.”

Exasperated, Will reached forward and placed a hand on his arm. In a flash, Hannibal had his wrist in a painful grip, causing Will to wince as he was pulled roughly towards him. 

“I said ‘ _no_ ’,” he growled, his eyes filled with a rage that Will had never seen. “I am under no obligation to share every fucking detail of my life with you.”

In all of their many years together, Will had never heard Hannibal use vulgarity in anger and it made his heart stop. For the first time in his life he felt a pang of fear in his gut as Hannibal’s eyes burned into him.

With a violent shove, his wrist was forced back against him and released as Hannibal threw the covers off the bed and stalked out of the room. Will listened to him make his way down the stairs, rubbing his sore wrist with his other hand. As he sat there trying to think of what to do, he heard one of the dogs yelp from the first floor. Will waited a moment - considering - before he pushed the sheets off of him and slowly walked downstairs.

He found Hannibal on his knees looking under the couch. He sat back on his heels when he heard Will approach.

“I didn’t see him,” he said softly.

Will came and knelt beside him.

“Who?”

“I’m not certain,” he answered. “I think it was Quatre. He darted underfoot as I was walking and I believe I stepped on his paw.”

Will frowned.

“He’s been playing down here with Shelley at night,” he said. 

Hannibal nodded.

Will considered telling him that the puppy would be okay - that he would come out when he was ready having utterly forgiven Hannibal - but he didn’t. He came to his feet but was stopped from leaving by Hannibal’s fingers around his wrist. The older man narrowed his eyes, looking at the red mark that had started to form, and rubbed the skin carefully with his thumb.

“One of my first vivid memories is of the evening Mischa was born,” he began. “My mother had been sequestered upstairs since before the dawn that day. My father wouldn’t allow me to go upstairs so I remained in the main room all day listening to my mother scream in agony as she labored with her. She screamed and she screamed and she screamed and then she stopped and Mischa screamed.”

Will dropped back down to his knees, his wrist still held in Hannibal’s gentle caress.

“My father called for me and I saw this tiny, pink, crying thing in my mother’s arms and I knew with my entire being that I loved her like nothing else in my life. Growing up I maintained a hospitable relationship with my parents - they cared for me and I for them - but I would not say that I felt any love towards them. But I loved Mischa, and she loved me.

“One day we were out playing and she fell and scraped her knee on a rock. Both of my parents observed this and my mother ran to her with her hands outstretched, but Mischa went crying straight into my arms instead. She trusted me to protect her.”

Hannibal took a deep breath and wet his lips.

“Then one winter our parents took us from our home to a lodge we owned in the north for the holidays. Over the years Mischa came to hate it there because of the monster who lived in her closet; a shadow man made of ebony skin, sharp claws, and a head of antlers. So often, Mischa would leave her room and come sleep with me.

Will felt his heart skip a beat as he continued to listen.

“Then one night I awoke to a loud bang and the sounds of drunken yells. I left my room and made my way to the stairs and from the top step I saw my father laying on the ground surrounded by blood, a group of strange men all around him and my mother cowering nearby. They assaulted her and then shot her as well.

“Mischa appeared at my side - her face red with tears and panic. I grabbed her by the hand and ran back to her room which was closer than mine. I pulled her into the closet with me but she started to scream about the Shadow Man. I tried to cover her mouth, to quiet her, comfort her, but I could not; she begged me to let her out. The men found us and they pulled her from me laughing.

“I launched myself at the man who had grabbed her and bit into his hand as hard as I could. He slapped me so viciously across the face that I lost consciousness before I hit the floor. I drifted between two worlds for a while; I could not make my body move but I heard Mischa screaming for me. She screamed my name over and over again. By the time I fully regained consciousness, there was no more commotion in the house.”

Hannibal had stopped rubbing Will’s wrist and instead simply held onto it as Will’s eyes began to sting.

“The men were gone, our home was ransacked. I went downstairs and passed the bodies of my mother and father and found Mischa crumpled on the floor of the kitchen; the base of her skull was sunken in. I stared at her and was overcome with my failure to protect her, to keep her safe - as she trusted me to. I felt a compulsion to keep her with me; the thought of leaving her was unbearable.”

Hannibal paused, his eyes lowered as he continued to traverse his memories.

“Both of my parents were surgeons and they had similar aspirations for me. They taught me about human anatomy at a very young age, my father had me dissect animals he would hunt. I retrieved by father’s medical kit and I cut into her chest. I pushed my way under her sternum and pulled her heart free. Without consideration I brought it to my mouth and ripped away at it piece by piece until I was able to ingest it all. It was vital that I keep her with me, inside of me.”

Will dropped from his knees and came to sit next to him with with legs crossed. He covered Hannibal’s hand that held onto his wrist.

“How old were you?” Will asked, a tear falling from his eye and his voice cracking.

“I was eight,” Hannibal answered. “Mischa was three.”

Will looked down at the floor between them and saw Hannibal’s sister laying there unmoving with her chest open and her head smashed, felt Hannibal’s agony and debilitating sense of failure.

“Soon after,” Hannibal continued. “I was sent to live with my Uncle Robert and his wife in France. My nightmares began at this time: I would dream of Mischa calling for me and I would be unable to move. I would have to watch her be brutalized while being unable to make my body respond, all I can ever do is call back to her.”

Will dropped his head.

“Did you find the men responsible?”

A flash of a smirk played on Hannibal’s lips.

“Oh yes,” he said. “When I came of age my parent’s fortune was released to me and I used that wealth to track them down, one by one. They were the first people I ever killed. I was sloppy and unpracticed but I made sure they knew who I was - who _she_ was.” 

Hearing a soft grunt, both men looked down to find that Quatre had crawled out from under the couch. Hannibal placed a careful hand on the back of his head as the puppy wagged its tail and jumped into his lap, having forgiven him for everything.


End file.
